■  • 

■  i 

■  \ 

■  M 
•  i 

i 

It  |Ull 

] 

Univers; 

Soutl| 

Libi 


r 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS 
OF 

HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

VOLUME    I 


z. 


LIFI      VND   LETTERS 

0  F 

HI  HIGGINSON 


From  the  Portrait  by  John  Singer  Sargent 
.  in  the  Harvard  Union  (1903) 


With  Illustrat 


THE  A  LY  PRESS 

OSTON 


i^w*a  i 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS 

OF 

HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 


BY 

BLISS  PERRY 


Htmtteb  €trition 
I 


With  Illustrations 


THE  ATLANTIC  MONTHLY  PRESS 

BOSTON 


Copyright,  192 1,  by 

BLISS   PERRY 


OF    THE    LIMITED    EDITION    OF    220    COPIES 
THIS    IS    NUMBER 


TO 

HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

GRANDSON  AND  NAMESAKE 

OF  THE  NOBLE  GENTLEMAN  WHOSE  LIFE 

IS  HERE  TOLD 

THIS  VOLUME  IS    DEDICATED 


PREFACE 

The  material  for  a  life  of  Henry  Lee  Higginson  is  abundant. 
He  had  a  fondness  for  keeping  letters  and  memoranda,  and 
the  correspondence  to  which  I  have  had  access  is  enormous  in 
quantity,  and  covers  a  period  of  more  than  seventy  years. 
During  both  of  his  long  sojourns  in  Europe,  in  his  youth,  he 
kept  diaries,  as  he  did  for  a  while  during  the  Civil  War ;  and  later 
in  life  he  dictated  some  vivid  Reminiscences.  He  was  passion- 
ately devoted  to  his  friends,  and  wrote  them  with  the  great- 
est frankness ;  and  among  his  correspondents  —  who  were 
equally  frank  —  were  some  of  the  most  interesting  men  of  his 
generation. 

In  the  earlier  chapters  I  have  drawn  freely  upon  his  corre- 
spondence with  his  father,  George  Higginson,  and  upon 
Henry's  European  diaries.  The  Civil  War  chapters  utilize 
many  hitherto  unpublished  letters  from  Charles  Francis 
Adams,  Greely  S.  Curtis,  and  other  army  comrades.  In  telling 
the  story  of  Major  Higginson's  adventures  with  oil-wells  in 
Ohio  and  with  a  cotton  plantation  in  Georgia,  during  1865 
and  1866,  I  have  had  the  assistance  of  Mrs.  Higginson's 
diaries.  In  giving  an  account  of  the  early  years  of  Lee,  Hig- 
ginson and  Co.,  I  have  been  permitted  to  use  an  unpublished 
sketch  of  the  history  of  the  firm,  by  the  late  Professor  Barrett 
Wendell.  The  chapter  on  the  founding  of  the  Boston  Sym- 
phony Orchestra  could  scarcely  have  been  written  without 
the  aid  of  the  History  of  the  Orchestra  by  M.  A.  DeWolfe 
Howe.  In  the  chapter  dealing  with  Major  Higginson's  rela- 
tions with  Harvard  and  other  colleges,  I  have  been  particu- 
larly aided  by  his  correspondence  with  President  Eliot,  Presi- 
dent Lowell,  Dean  Briggs,  and  Professor  William  James. 
Henry  Adams  was  another  lifelong  friend  whose  letters  are 
frequently  quoted,  and  Major  Higginson's  interest  in  public 


viii  PREFACE 

affairs  is  well  illustrated  by  his  correspondence  with  Charles 
Elliott  Perkins  and  Senator  Henry  Cabot  Lodge.  During  the 
period  of  the  World  War,  Major  Higginson  wrote,  if  possible, 
more  vigorously  than  ever;  and  I  have  given  much  space  to 
his  letters  about  the  Orchestra  in  191 7  and  191 8,  and  to  his 
delightful  correspondence  with  his  many  friends  in  England. 
My  thanks  are  due,  not  only  to  the  persons  who  have  placed 
their  letters  from  and  to  Major  Higginson  so  generously  at 
my  disposal,  but  also  to  many  of  his  friends  who  have  assisted 
me  in  the  preparation  of  this  biography,  especially  to  Presi- 
dent Eliot,  President  Lowell,  Dr.  Henry  P.  Walcott,  John  T. 
Morse,  Jr.,  Dr.  W.  Sturgis  Bigelow,  Professor  F.  W.  Taussig, 
James  J.  Storrow,  M.  A.  DeWolfe  Howe,  Judge  Frederick  P. 
Cabot,  and  Philip  Hale.  Above  all,  I  wish  to  thank  Mrs. 
Higginson  for  her  tireless  and  generous  assistance  in  collect- 
ing and  arranging  her  husband's  letters,  and  in  aiding  me  in 
every  possible  way.  Both  Mrs.  Higginson  and  her  son,  Captain 
A.  Henry  Higginson,  have  kindly  read  this  volume  in  manuscript. 
The  index  has  been  prepared  by  my  friend  Mr.  George  B.  Ives. 

B.  P. 

Cambridge,  May,  1921. 


CONTENTS 

I.  The  "Combined  Influence" i 

II.  First  Visit  to  Europe 28 

III.  A  Period  of  Ferment 72 

IV.  Four  Years  of  Europe 93 

V.  The  Civil  War:  First  Phase 140 

VI.  The  Civil  War:  Second  Phase 176 

VII.  The  Civil  War:  Third  Phase 203 

VIII.  Oil  and  Cotton 239 

IX.  Lee,  Higginson  and  Company 267 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Henry  L.  Higginson Frontispiece 

From  tlie  portrait  by  John  Singer  Sargent 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Higginson 10 

Henry  L.  Higginson 24 

Class  photograph  (1855) 

Henry  L.  Higginson 106 

From  a  Vienna  photograph  of  the  fifties 

H.  L.  Higginson,  Major  of  Cavalry,  U.S.  Army  (1863)     .       .       .176 

H.  L.  Higginson  and  Mrs.  Higginson  (1863) 214 

The  Ohio  Log-Cabin  (1865) 242 

From  a  drawing  by  Mrs.  Higginson 

The  Georgia  Plantation  (1866) 256 

From  a  drawing  by  Mrs.  Higginson 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 
HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE" 

"And  no  less  was  the  good  metal  in  our  Higginson."  —  Cotton  Mather, 
Magnolia,  1702. 

"No,  my  friends,  I  go  always  (other  things  being  equal)  for  the  man  who 
inherits  family  traditions  and  the  cumulative  humanities  of  at  least  four  or 
five  generations."  —  Holmes,  The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast-Table. 

"It  is  singular  how  little  we  really  know  of  our  relations," 
wrote  Henry  Lee  Higginson  to  his  father,  when  he  was  not 
quite  eighteen,  "and  it  is  still  more  singular  what  family  views 
we  are  inclined  to  take  of  anything  or  body  or  idea.  The  family 
delivers  some  opinion  and  the  rest  of  us  are  expected  to  agree 
without  a  demur  ....  Mother  had  ideas  of  her  own,  and  did 
not  succumb  to  the  family.  If  you  ask  who  is  the  family,  it  is 
pretty  hard  to  answer,  but  there  certainly  is  a  sort  of  combined 
influence  which  is  produced  from  no  one  person  or  particular 
persons,  which  is  very  healthy  and  sound  and  beneficial,  but 
which  needs  something  new.  Boston  is  not  the  world,  nor  Bos- 
tonians  always  right.  I'm  a  New  Yorker,  thank  Heaven!  and 
I  believe  have  always  had  my  eyes  open  to  the  fact  that  Boston 
was  but  a  dot  on  this  earth.  I  hope  you  will  not  think  me  bitter 
or  ungrateful,  or  that  I  'm  set  up  in  these  ideas  by  anyone  else. 
Very  far  from  it.  I  must  be  allowed  my  own  opinions,  and  one 
of  them  is  that  the  family  might  be  improved,  tho'  it  is  about 
the  best  I  know.   Love  to  all. 

"Your  affectionate  son,  H.' 


»» 


2  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

In  Boston,  that  mere  "dot  on  this  earth,"  as  it  seemed  to 
this  frank  young  man  in  1852,  no  one  could  have  questioned 
the  soundness  of  the  Higginson  stock.  It  had  been  rooted  in 
the  hard  Massachusetts  soil  for  nine  generations.  It  had  bred 
clergymen,  seamen,  soldiers,  administrators,  and  merchants: 
a  prolific,  generous,  stubborn  race,  not  slow  to  wrath,  and 
honest  as  the  sunlight. 

The  first  two  American  generations  of  this  old  English  fam- 
ily, and  the  sixth,  had  been  the  most  distinguished  in  the 
public  eye.  Most  famous  of  the  line  was  the  pioneer  emigrant, 
Reverend  Francis  Higginson,  whom  Cotton  Mather  called 
"the  first  in  a  catalogue  of  heroes."  Born  at  Claybrooke  in 
Leicestershire,  where  his  father,  the  Reverend  John  Higginson, 
was  vicar  for  fifty-three  years,  Francis  Higginson,  like  his 
father  before  him,  was  educated  at  Jesus  College,  Cambridge. 
Taking  the  degrees  of  B.A.  in  1609,  and  M.A.  in  1613,  he  be- 
came a  notable  preacher  at  Leicester.  "The  blades  of  the  Lau- 
dian  faction,"  says  Cotton  Mather,  informed  against  him  for 
his  Nonconformist  principles;  and  being  invited  by  the  Gov- 
ernor and  Company  of  Massachusetts  Bay  to  emigrate  with 
them,  he  came  over  with  his  wife  and  eight  children,  in  the  Tal- 
bot, in  1629,  sailing  April  25  from  Gravesend,  and  arriving  in 
Salem  Harbor  on  June  29.  His  "Journal  of  the  Voyage"  and 
his  description  of  "  New  England's  Plantation  "  are  well  known 
to  antiquarians.  Historians  of  the  Puritan  movement  in  Eng- 
land and  America  have  had  much  to  say  concerning  Francis 
Higginson's  peculiar  ordination  as  teacher  of  the  Salem  church, 
and  of  the  probable  influence  of  Dr.  Samuel  Fuller,  a  physician 
from  the  Plymouth  Colony,  in  encouraging  Endicott  and  the 
Salem  authorities  in  this  complete  break  with  the  traditions  of 
English  sacerdotalism,  and  in  the  establishment  of  a  new  and 
independent  type  of  Congregationalism. 

But  it,  is  the  personal  quality  of  Francis  Higginson,  rather 
than  his  ecclesiastical  significance,  which  fascinates  the  reader 
who  already  knows  something  of  Henry  Lee  Higginson,  his 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  3 

lineal  descendant  of  the  ninth  generation.  It  is  not  certain 
whether  the  portrait  of  "Francis  Higginson"  preserved  in  the 
State  House  at  Boston1  is  really  of  Francis  or  of  his  son  John; 
and  it  may  represent  John  Wheelwright.  It  is  a  serious,  kindly, 
wistful  face,  with  firm  nose  and  chin,  as  befits  "the  Argonauts 
of  the  first  decade  of  New  England,"  among  whom,  as  the  lit- 
erary historian  Tyler  thought,  "there  was  perhaps  no  braver 
or  more  exquisite  spirit  than  Francis  Higginson."  The  Salem 
tradition  represents  him  as  "slender  and  erect,  but  not  tall." 
Cotton  Mather  credits  him  with  "a  most  charming  voice, 
which  rendered  him  unto  his  hearers,  in  all  his  exercises,  an- 
other Ezekiel,  for  '  Lo,  he  was  unto  them  as  a  very  lovely  song 
of  one  that  hath  a  pleasant  voice  and  can  play  well  upon  an 
instrument.'" 

Major  Higginson's  friends  in  the  Tavern  Club,  where  he 
presided  nobly  for  a  score  of  years,  chaffed  him  occasionally 
for  his  apostasy  from  the  Reverend  Francis  Higginson's  exam- 
ple of  "demonstrating  the  sinfulness  of  health-drinking";  but 
the  Puritan  blood  told  in  191 7,  when  Major  Higginson,  at  a 
meeting  of  the  Saturday  Club,  moved  in  pungent  and  flashing 
phrases  that  the  Club  give  up  wines  at  its  dinners  in  war-time, 
and  send  the  money  to  Serbian  and  Armenian  refugees.  The 
Reverend  Francis  Higginson,  who  thought  that  a  "sup  of  New 
England's  air  is  better  than  a  whole  draught  of  Old  England's 
ale,"  would  have  listened  to  that  little  speech  with  pleasure. 
And  being,  according  to  Cotton  Mather,  "not  only  a  good  man 
full  of  faith,  but  also  a  good  man  full  of  work  .  .  .  very  serv- 
iceable to  the  education  of  scholars,"  and  "very  useful  in  for- 
warding and  promoting  of  contributions,"  Francis  Higginson 
would  have  found  Henry  Lee  Higginson,  of  Soldiers  Field  and 
the  Harvard  Union,  a  true  scion  of  the  old  stock. 

Francis  died  at  forty-three,  after  little  more  than  one  year's 

1  Reproduced  in  Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson's  Descendants  of  the  Reverend 
Francis  Higginson  (privately  printed,  1910);  and  discussed  in  Thomas  Wentworth 
Higginson's  Life  of  Francis  Higginson  (New  York,  1891),  pp.  131-33,  and  in 
C.  K.  Bolton's  Portraits  of  the  Founders  (1919),  pp.  504,  650. 


4  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

residence  in  Salem.  His  son  John,  the  head  of  the  family  in 
the  second  American  generation,  lived  to  be  ninety-three, 
having  preached  in  his  father's  Salem  pulpit  for  nearly  fifty 
years.  It  was  he  who  wrote  the  Preface  to  Cotton  Mather's 
"Magnalia,"  and  who,  as  his  descendant  Colonel  T.  W.  Hig- 
ginson  liked  to  point  out,  courageously  supported,  at  the  age 
of  ninety,  Judge  Samuel  Sewall's  protest  against  the  African 
slave  trade.  Anti-slavery  may  not  be  "the  blood,"  as  Emer- 
son once  affirmed,  but  it  was  certainly  in  the  blood  of  the 
Higginsons. 

In  the  third  and  fourth  generations  the  Higginsons  were 
Salem  merchants  and  seafarers.  "  Colonel  John  "  begat  "Cap- 
tain John,"  Captain  John  begat  Stephen,  and  Stephen,  a  pros- 
perous, book-loving  man  of  business,  who  married  a  Cabot,  be- 
gat that  Honorable  Stephen  Higginson,  of  the  sixth  generation, 
whose  life  has  been  entertainingly  written  by  his  grandson, 
Colonel  T.  W.  Higginson.  He  was  a  notable  and  delightful  per- 
sonage. As  a  leading  American  ship-master,  he  had  the  glory 
of  being  examined  by  Edmund  Burke  before  a  Committee  of 
Parliament  in  1771 ;  he  was  a  member  of  the  Continental  Con- 
gress; helped  to  put  down  Shays'  Rebellion;  was  "the  first  to 
suggest  that  the  voices  of  nine  out  of  the  thirteen  states  could 
make  the  Confederacy  into  a  Nation";  and  as  Navy  Agent 
gave  valuable  assistance  in  organizing  the  American  Navy  un- 
der Jefferson's  administration.  Politically  he  was  a  stanch 
Federalist.  Like  his  friend  and  kinsman  George  Cabot,  he  was 
a  member  of  the  famous  "  Essex  Junto,"  and  was  the  reputed 
author  of  the  "Laco"  letters  directed  against  John  Hancock. 
He  amassed  a  large  fortune  as  a  Boston  merchant,  but  lost 
heavily,  like  so  many  of  his  friends,  in  the  war  of  1 8 12.  He 
lived  to  the  age  of  85,  dying  in  his  country  house  in  Brookline, 
in  1828. 

Among  the  Honorable  Stephen's  ten  children  was  the  Ste- 
phen who  became,  after  financial  reverses,  the  "steward,"  or 
bursar,  of  Harvard  University  and  the  father  of  Colonel  T.  W. 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  5 

Higginson  of  the  "  Cheerful  Yesterdays."  Anotherson,  George, 
a  Boston  merchant,  noted  for  benevolence,  or  what  was  then 
called  "philanthropy," named  his  eldest  son, born  in  1804, after 
himself.  It  is  this  George  Higginson  of  1804,  in  the  eighth 
generation  from  Francis,  who  in  due  time  married  Mary  Cabot 
Lee,  and  became  the  father  of  Henry  Lee  Higginson. 

We  have  already  quoted  the  boy's  letter:  "  If  you  ask  who 
is  the  family,  it  is  pretty  hard  to  answer,  but  there  certainly  is 
a  sort  of  combined  influence."  To  one  who  surveys,  however 
briefly,  the  record  of  the  successive  generations  of  Higginsons, 
a  purely  English  stock  transplanted  to  Massachusetts  Bay 
and  sharing  in  the  typical  New  England  achievements  and 
character  for  two  hundred  years,  the  "combined  influence"  is 
not  doubtful.  Piety,  courage,  beneficence,  patriotism,  and  a 
keen  sense  of  personal  honor  were  the  traditions  of  the  House. 
The  schoolmates  of  George  Higginson's  four  boys  in  the  eight- 
een-forties  and  fifties  would  not,  probably,  have  put  "piety" 
first  in  the  list  of  family  characteristics;  for  these  youngest 
Higginsons,  like  Stevenson's  Alan  Breck  Stewart,  were  "bonny 
fighters,"  with  a  gift  for  picturesque  language,  and  free  from 
any  odor  of  sanctity.   But  the  Puritan  blood  was  there. 

In  some  fragmentary  Reminiscences,  dictated  in  191 8,  at  the 
age  of  84,  Major  Higginson  gave  the  following  account  of  his 
boyhood : — 

I  was  born  in  Amity  Street  (now  Fourth  Street),  New  York 
City,  on  the  18th  of  November,  1834,  mv  father  and  mother 
being  George  and  Mary  Higginson.  I  can  remember  that  I, 
with  my  two  brothers,  used  to  play  in  Washington  Square, 
which  was  a  little  north  of  where  we  lived.  We  used  to  be 
taken  to  Boston  each  summer,  and  I  remember  now  being  on 
the  Sound  boat  and  feeling  rather  queer  one  morning.  Later  I 
recognized  that  it  was  seasickness.  I  have  a  dim  recollection 
of  the  great  fire  in  New  York,  which  was  in  1836. 

In  my  fourth  year  we  moved  to  Boston,  as  my  father,  who 


6  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

had  been  in  business  with  his  cousin  (Stephen  Higginson)  as  a 
small  commission  merchant,  failed  in  the  great  panic  of  1837. 
Then  we  lived  in  a  very  small  house  in  Chauncy  Place.  Father 
carried  on  a  very  small  commission  business  on  India  Wharf 
in  Boston.  We  lived  in  the  narrowest  way,  and  got  on  very 
well;  went  into  a  house  a  little  bit  larger  in  Bedford  Place; 
went  to  a  good  school,  then  to  the  Latin  School,  and  had  a 
pleasant  boyhood.  Everything  was  done  in  a  very  small  way, 
and  my  father  and  mother  both  worked  pretty  hard.  My 
father  was  one  of  thirteen  children,  was  put  at  work  at  the  age 
of  twelve  in  an  office,  and  stayed  in  business  until  1874,  when 
he  was  seventy  years  old.  He  was  a  very  kindly,  industrious, 
sensible  man,  with  a  remarkable  "nose"  for  character,  scrup- 
ulously honest,  and  disinterested  to  a  high  degree.  When  he 
was  earning  very  little  money,  he  passed  much  of  his  time 
and  any  spare  pennies  possible  in  charitable  work. 

My  mother  was  unusually  intelligent  and  attractive,  as  I 
now  know  from  the  various  older  men  and  younger  men  who 
used  to  come  to  our  house  and  dine.  We  had  meat  —  chiefly 
corned  beef  —  about  five  times  in  the  week  at  dinner,  had  no 
butter,  never  saw  an  egg,  had  plenty  of  potatoes,  and  baked 
apples,  and  milk. 

I  did  fairly  well  at  the  Latin  School,  where  the  tuition  cost 
nothing,  but  was  presently  taken  away  because  of  colds  and 
headaches,  which  came  very  often  and  which  interfered  with 
my  work.  After  one  year  at  a  private  school,  I  was  sent  back  to 
the  Latin  School,  and  did  much  better.  I  remember  studying 
hard  and  getting  my  lessons  with  effort,  but  still  with  deter- 
mination, because  it  pleased  my  mother.  I  cannot  remember 
that  they  gave  me  any  particular  pleasure,  or  that  I  under- 
stood them ;  for  in  those  days  our  teachers  explained  nothing, 
and,  as  I  see  it,  taught  us  nothing;  they  made  us  learn,  and 
made  us  recite,  and  if  we  did  not  do  it,  we  were  punished.  It 
was  a  pretty  poor  system.  The  discipline  was  severe,  but 
wholesome. 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  7 

We  used  to  play  on  the  Common  or  in  the  little  court  in 
Bedford  Place,  where  we  lived,  and  I  kept  up  with  most  of  the 
boys,  seeing  chiefly  the  three  Paine  boys  who  lived  close  by  us, 
and  various  others,  among  them  Charles  Lowell,  who  was  just 
my  age  and  as  bright  as  I  was  stupid.  He  and  I  went  every- 
where together,  coasted  on  the  Common,  skated,  cut  up  all 
sorts  of  pranks;  and  with  him  was  James  Savage,  who  was  a 
year  or  two  older,  but  who  was  with  us  all  the  time. 

While  at  the  Latin  School  I  got  two  prizes,  being  prompted 
thereto  by  my  desire  to  please  my  mother,  who  was  delighted 
with  my  success;  but  I  cannot  remember  that  I  ever  cared 
about  it  myself. 

We  all  took  some  interest  in  public  affairs,  and  when  the 
Revolution  of  1848  came  in  Europe,  it  interested  us  much.  I 
had  a  very  strong  feeling  about  our  country,  was  very  proud  of 
it,  thought  nothing  too  good  for  it,  thought  it  had  no  faults, 
could  not  conceive  of  living  under  any  other  government,  and 
was  delighted  with  the  revolutions  in  Europe. 

By  and  by  I  was  taken  away  from  the  Latin  School  again, 
because  my  eyes  were  weak.  Each  summer  we  had  been  taken 
out  to  some  neighboring  town,  and  lived  in  a  farmer's  house  or 
some  little  cottage  and  had  a  pleasant  life  in  summer.  We  had 
our  little  gardens  in  which  we  worked,  and  would  pick  apples 
from  the  trees  where  we  lived  in  the  various  towns  —  Water- 
town,  Newton,  and  West  Cambridge,  which  is  now  Belmont. 
All  this  was  very  good  for  us. 

In  the  year  1849,  when  I  was  fifteen  years  old,  my  mother 
died,  in  August.  She  had  had  tuberculosis  for  some  time,  and 
it  had  increased  and  increased,  and  nothing  could  be  done  to 
save  her.  It  was  a  terrible  blow  to  my  father,  and  of  course  very 
bad  for  us  all,  but  we  lived  along  and  did  the  best  we  could. 

My  mates  went  to  college  in  1850,  and  I  wished  to  go  too, 
but  my  eyes  had  been  weak,  and  I  had  been  taken  away  from 
school  and  put  under  the  care  of  a  tutor,  who  said  I  would  not 
be  ready  for  college  before  1851. 


8  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

We  were  all  taking  a  good  deal  of  interest  in  the  slavery 
question  at  that  time,  and  to  me  it  appealed  very  much.  Very 
many  of  the  people  whom  we  naturally  saw,  old  and  young,  in 
Boston,  were  interested  in  cotton  manufactures  and  had  many 
friends  in  the  South,  and  did  not  share  the  strong  feeling  that 
we  held  about  slavery.  I  remember  that  we  boys  used  to  go 
down  to  Fanueil  Hall  to  hear  the  meetings  for  and  against  slav- 
ery. But  my  feeling  about  it  was  very  strong.  Mr.  Webster 
made  his  great  speech  about  the  fugitive  slave  law  just  at  that 
time,  and  excited  thereby  great  dislike  as  well  as  great  admira- 
tion. Somehow  or  other,  from  early  days  I  had  had  the  feel- 
ings of  a  "reformer,"  and  those  feelings  grew  with  me. 

I  went  to  college  in  1851,  with  a  very  good  lot  of  fellows, 
among  whom  was  Phillips  Brooks,  with  whom  I  had  been  at 
school  some  years:  Alex  Agassiz,  George  Dexter,  and  many 
others.  After  six  months,  I  again  broke  down.  My  eyes  were 
too  sick  to  study  and,  after  a  few  months,  I  was  sent  to 
Europe. 

This  crisp  narrative  is  characteristic,  and  renders  admirably 
an  old  man's  retrospect;  yet  many  details  must  be  filled  in,  if 
we  are  to  picture  the  circumstances  and  the  spirit  of  his  boy- 
hood. We  must  understand  something  of  his  father  and 
mother,  of  the  swarm  of  relatives  and  friends  who  formed  the 
social  atmosphere  of  his  youth ;  and  we  must  go  back  in  imagi- 
nation to  the  pleasant  Boston  town  of  the  eighteen-forties  — 
vanished  now  as  utterly  as  Thebes  and  Troy. 

The  dominant  influence  in  the  first  thirty  years  of  Henry 
Higginson's  life  was  that  of  his  father.  George  Higginson,  from 
early  manhood  until  his  death  at  85  in  1889,  seemed  to  his 
contemporaries  to  belong  somehow  to  the  "old  school."  Short 
of  stature,  —  like  his  sons,  —  muscular,  merry-eyed,  very  care- 
fully dressed,  studiously  and  proudly  "mercantile"  in  his  bus- 
iness hours,  a  stanch  Whig  and  Unitarian,  admirer  of  Emerson 
and  reader  of  Dickens  and  Thackeray,  passionately  attached 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  9 

to  his  home  and  children  and  kinsfolk,  an  upright,  laborious, 
and  unselfish  gentleman,  George  Higginson  was  a  glorious  ex- 
ample of  the  English  virtue  of  somehow  "winning  through." 

Many  thanks  for  your  portrait  [wrote  his  son  Henry  from 
Vienna  in  May,  1858];  it  is  a  very  excellent  likeness.  A  touch 
of  gray  in  the  hair  and  whiskers  and  a  few  wrinkles  to  show 
that  you  are  no  longer  young,  a  half-smile  and  a  half-joke  in 
your  eyes  to  signify  the  fun  of  your  nature,  the  pleasantest 
mouth  in  the  world  with  its  very  best  expression,  your  chin 
beaming  a  bit,  your  nose  to  settle  your  destiny,  your  modern 
cravat  with  a  large  tie  in  contrast  with  your  ancient  diminu- 
tive square  knot,  and  your  double-breasted  waistcoat  to  prove 
your  keeping  up  with  the  age  and  not  becoming  an  old  fogy, 
your  Puritanism  peeping  out  in  the  shirt  of  two  plaits,  your 
hair-chain  —  it  is  all  capital,  the  real  old  daddy.  Anyone  can 
see  how  you  scrub  your  face  every  morning  from  the  way  it 
shines. 

On  September  18  of  that  year  he  writes  again: — 

Dear  old  Daddy  :  — 

You  're  fifty-four  years  old  to-day.  A  jolly  day  to  you  and 
many  returns  of  the  same.  I  know  that  you  hope  to  die  early, 
but  you  're  in  for  twenty  and  perhaps  thirty  more  years.  Make 
them  as  pleasant  as  possible  for  yourself.  If  you  only  take  a 
little  care  of  yourself  you  '11  always  be  well  and  strong;  and 
that  is  the  principal  thing.  Much  satisfaction  and  joy  in  your 
children ;  they  've  not  borne  early  fruits,  but  early  strawberries 
are  sour.  The  apple  is  our  best  Northern  fruit,  but  it  takes  all 
summer  to  ripen  it.  We  find  flowers  in  April  and  May,  but  the 
rose,  the  queen  of  flowers,  comes  in  June.  May  your  daughter 
prove  a  rose.  Forty  years  you  have  worked  daily  in  a  counting- 
room,  and  the  result  is  as  fair  and  honorable  a  name  as  ever 
man  had.   Twenty-five  years  you  've  watched  over  and  cared 


io  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

for  us  every  minute  of  the  day  and  night.  You  've  done  a  good 
deal,  old  daddy,  and  we  all  are  thankful  to  you  for  your  care 
and  love,  and  are  proud  of  you  as  a  father  and  a  man. 

And  the  birthday  letter  of  1859  must  also  be  quoted:  — 

Vienna,  Sept.  18,  1859. 
Dearest  Father:  — 

A  happy  birthday  to  you  and  may  we  see  many  more  fall 
on  your  dear  old  head.  Fifty-five  years  is  our  jolly  daddy; 
when  he  is  seventy-five  and  his  children  with  gray  hairs  are 
standing  around  him,  may  he  look  with  more  satisfaction  on 
his  past  life  than  he  now  does.  You  will  probably  have  a  jolli- 
fication with  Mr.  Forbes  to-day.  Are  you  still  as  troubled  as 
formerly  about  eating  too  much  and  getting  fat?  How  you 
did  starve  yourself  in  those  times;  ate  one  soup  a  week  and 
drank  two  cups  of  coffee.  Speaking  of  gray  hairs,  I  plucked  a 
white  hair,  silvery  white,  from  my  beard  the  other  day,  and 
have  some  more  on  my  head. 

A  hundred  traits  in  the  father's  character  —  whimsical, 
pious,  stubborn,  solicitous  —  will  appear  in  the  correspondence 
printed  in  later  chapters;  but  no  better  summary  of  them  is 
likely  to  be  written  than  that  penned  by  Colonel  Henry  Lee, 
his  brother-in-law,  in  1889.1 

"Mr.  Higginson  was  preeminent  in  those  qualities  which 
entitle  a  man  to  love  and  respect.  He  had  been  tried  by  adver- 
sity and  prosperity,  and  subdued  by  neither;  he  was  liberal  — 
nay,  prodigal  —  of  his  time  and  his  money  in  the  service  of  all 
who  were  'distressed  in  mind,  body,  or  estate.'  He  waited  not 
for  wealth,  but  gave  from  his  penury  as  afterwards  from  his 
abundance.  He  believed  in  the  payment  of  debtswith  interest, 
no  matter  how  outlawed  by  time,  or  how  excusably  incurred ; 
and  he  paid  for  others  who  were  disabled,  as  for  himself.   You 

1  Reprinted  in  J.  T.  Morse's  Memoir  of  Henry  Lee  (Boston,  1905),  p.  348. 


z 
o 

O 

o 


w 
o 

o 
w 
o 

Q 
« 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  n 

have  heard  of  men  fleeing  from  their  taxes,  leaving  them  to  be 
paid  by  their  poorer  neighbors;  but  Mr.  Higginson,  not  content 
with  paying  as  doomed,  complained  to  the  assessors,  and 
insisted  on  their  doubling  his  tax.  .  .  . 

"At  one  period  of  the  war,  when  one  of  his  sons  was  lying 
dangerously  wounded,  another  in  Libby  Prison,  while  a  third 
was  with  his  regiment  in  South  Carolina,  ill  of  malarial  fever, 
he  repelled  the  condolences  of  a  Copperhead  friend  whose  sons 
had  been  harbored  at  home,  saying  emphatically  that  he  would 
not  exchange  places,  and  that  he  stood  in  no  need  of  pity.  Such 
was  his  standard  of  patriotism.  To  enumerate  his  beneficiaries 
would  be  impossible,  as  no  human  being  stood  near  enough  to 
him  to  ascertain  their  names  or  number;  and  some  surprising 
revelations  have  been  made  by  those  assisted.  His  habit  of 
living,  like  his  habit  of  giving,  was  liberal  and  unostentatious. 
An  old-fashioned  simplicity,  in  which  he  had  been  bred,  he 
maintained  through  life,  combined  with  an  unbounded  hospi- 
tality. An  uncle  of  mine,  who  was  at  Andover  Academy  with 
the  father  and  uncles  of  Mr.  Higginson,  said  of  them  that  they 
were  the  heartiest  laughers  and  the  fiercest  fighters,  and  these 
traits  have  come  down  with  the  blood. 

"  I  fear  that  some  solemn  occasions,  like  the  funerals  of  dis- 
tant relatives,  have  been  disturbed  or  threatened  by  the  out- 
bursts of  Mr.  Higginson  and  his  cousin  Stephen,  so  akin  are 
tears  and  laughter  in  persons  of  quick  sympathy  and  keen 
sense  of  humor.  He  was  also  quick  to  resent  an  injury,  and 
exploded  instantaneously  upon  the  least  hint  of  imposition  or 
baseness,  or  of  brazen  intrusiveness.  .  .  . 

"A  stranger,  meeting  him  in  the  street,  would  conclude  from 
his  downcast  look  and  his  drooping  gait  that  he  was  dejected; 
and  so  he  was,  for  his  early  orphanage,  the  vicissitudes  of  his 
life,  the  loss  of  his  wife,  —  of  whom  he  could  never  speak  but 
with  tears,  —  had  left  sad  memories.  But  the  face  of  a  friend, 
the  sight  of  a  little  child,  would  transform  him  in  an  instant. 
His  face  would  light  up  with   cordiality,  and  his  sighs   be 


12  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

followed  by  words  of  affection  or  peals  of  laughter;  for  he  was 
very  human;  his  blood  was  warm  within,  and  his  heart  most 
susceptible  of  joy  or  sorrow,  of  affection  or  anger.  This 
impressibility  made  him  hasty  and  sometimes  unjust;  and 
his  tenaciousness,  or  what  he  laughed  over  as  his  obstinacy, 
tended  to  stereotype  his  first  impressions;  but,  as  a  rule,  his 
judgments  were  to  be  relied  on.  Without  the  power  to  render 
his  reasons,  the  habits  of  a  long  life  of  right  feeling  and  good 
acting  gave  him  an  instinctive  insight  into  character,  a  sense 
of  danger  or  security  which  made  him  a  safe  guide. 

"  I  have  been  intimately  associated  with  Mr.  Higginson  for 
near  sixty  years,  and  I  have  never  known  a  more  upright,  more 
warm-hearted,  more  disinterested  man." 

Mary  Cabot  Lee,  Henry  Higginson's  mother,  was  born  on 
August  1 6,  1811,  the  daughter  of  Henry  Lee  the  elder  and 
Mary  Jackson.  She  married  George  Higginson  on  Novem- 
ber 1,  1832,  bore  him  five  children,1  and  died  August  26,  1849. 
The  affection  and  admiration  which  she  inspired  still  make 
vivid  her  memory.  "You  speak  of  your  mother,"  wrote  her 
brother  Colonel  Henry  Lee  to  Henry  Higginson  in  1893;  "she 
was  born  with  too  clear  sight  for  comfort,  she  toiled  to  accom- 
plish, for  those  she  loved,  impossibilities,  and  died  of  the  over- 
strain." Her  birthday  is  constantly  recalled  in  the  correspon- 
dence of  her  husband  and  her  children. 

It  is  mother's  birthday  once  more  [writes  Henry  to  his 
father  from  St.  Helier,  Jersey,  on  August  16,  i860];  her  forty- 
ninth  birthday.  What  a  long  time  since  you  were  married! 
Jimmy  says  in  a  late  letter  to  me  that,  if  she  had  lived,  she 
would  have  kept  the  family  together  now,  after  dear  grand- 
mother's death,  as  no  one  else  can  do  it.  She  would  surely  have 
done  so,  for  no  one  in  the  world  had  a  greater  faculty  in  these 

1  George  Higginson,  born  Aug.  6,  1833,  died  June  19,  1921 ;  Henry  Lee  Higgin- 
son, born  Nov.  18,  1834,  died  Nov.  14,  1919;  James  Jackson  Higginson,  born  June 
19,  1836,  died  Nov.  11,  1911;  Mary  Lee  Higginson  (Mrs.  S.  Parkman  Blake),  born 
Sept.  5,  1838;  Francis  Lee  Higginson,  born  Oct.  11,  1841. 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  13 

little  social  matters.  I  can  remember  distinctly  several  small 
parties  at  our  house,  and  how  easy  and  agreeable  they  were. 
She  was  too,  if  I  mistake  not  greatly,  a  favorite  with  your 
whole  family,  high  and  low,  young  and  old,  and  this  proves  in 
no  small  degree  her  great  social  gifts,  for  the  Higginson  tri- 
bunal is  not  an  easy  one  to  pass. 

I  've  inherited  from  both  parents  [wrote  Henry  Higginson 
in  1883]  the  belief  that  one  cannot  escape  with  honor  from  the 
duties  of  a  citizen.  .  .  .  Do  you  suppose  that  as  a  child  I  did 
not  heed  the  words  of  my  mother  about  slavery? 

Too  clear-sighted  for  comfort,  as  her  brother  said,  was 
this  descendant  of  Anne  Hutchinson.  Mr.  J.  T.  Morse  remem- 
bers her  as  "  ill  and  feeble,  lying  on  the  sofa,  while  a  noisy  rout 
of  boys  frolicked  through  the  house,  and  she  all  the  while 
smiled  gently,  making  no  plea  for  quiet." 

There  is  a  charming  letter  from  Mrs.  William  Channing 
("  Cousin  Julia")  to  George  Higginson,  in  May,  1858,  in  which 
she  speaks  of  having  met  his  son  James  in  Europe.  "It  was 
curious  to  me,  who  have  seen  so  little  of  James  since  he  was  a 
fine  baby,  to  contrast  the  dark  Spanish  head  before  me  with 
that  delicate  little  image  of  twenty  years  ago.  Yet  the  crisp 
brown  hair  of  manhood  has  the  same  trick  of  falling  over  the 
brow  as  the  soft  golden  curl  that  strayed  there  then,  and  I 
could  almost  sketch  from  memory  the  little  infant  face  in  its 
loveliness,  with  another  bending  in  tender  love  over  it,  the 
soft  brown  curls  half  shading  it  from  sight.  You  will  pardon 
me  and  not  think  it  indelicate  that  I  recall  this  touching 
memory." 

All  the  allusions  in  the  family  correspondence  confirm  the 
lines  of  that  picture  of  the  delicate,  worn  young  mother,  hater  of 
injustice,  lover  of  books,  lover  of  music,  lover  and  giver  of  life. 

That  sense  of  kinship  which  is  still  a  marked  feature  of  the 
older  Boston  families  flowered  to  perfection  in  the  Higginsons. 


14  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Their  clan  was  a  prolific  one,  and  by  a  long  series  of  inter- 
marriages they  were  allied  to  an  amazing  number  of  Old  Bos- 
ton families:  Cabots,  Lees,  Jacksons,  Lowells,  Channings, 
Perkinses,  Tyngs,  Storrows,  Putnams,  Morses,  Paines,  all 
called  them  "cousins."  l  With  the  Lees,  who  were  associated 
in  business  with  George  Higginson  after  1848,  —  when  the  firm 
of  Lee  and  Higginson  was  founded,  —  their  associations  were 
peculiarly  intimate.  "Grandfather  Henry  Lee"  and  "Grand- 
mother Lee,"  the  maternal  grandparents  of  the  young  Higgin- 
sons,  counted  for  more  in  their  childhood  than  did  the  paternal 
grandparents;  for  George  Higginson's  father  had  died  early, 
and  his  mother,  marrying  a  younger  brother  of  her  husband, 
had  absorbing  family  cares  of  her  own.  But  Lees  and  Higgin- 
sons  alike  spread  gradually  beyond  the  confines  of  Boston  and 
Brookline,  to  Beverly  and  the  North  Shore,  to  Brattleboro,  and 
even  to  Westport  on  Lake  Champlain,  where  the  Lees  early 
fixed  a  habitation,  which  figures  rapturously  as  "the  Lake" 
in  the  boyish  letters  of  Henry  Higginson  and  his  brothers. 

George  Higginson,  who,  as  his  son  often  said,  never  owned 
a  house  or  a  horse  of  his  own  until  within  a  few  years  of  his 
death,  lived  after  his  return  from  New  York,  in  1837,  in  vari- 
ous rented  houses  in  Boston,  West  Cambridge,  and  Brookline. 
The  homes  in  Chauncy  Place  and  at  No.  2  Bedford  Place  were 
typical,  —  each  in  a  little  nest  of  dwellings  inhabited  chiefly  by 
kinsfolk,  —  "one  of  those  cosey  little  courts,"  wrote  Colonel 
Henry  Lee,  "which  were  favorite  retreats  for  families  on  inti- 
mate terms  with  each  other  and  a  little  aloof  from  the  great 
world.  On  one  side  of  Bedford  Place,  for  so  was  the  court 
named,  was  the  house  and  garden  of  my  uncle,  Judge  Jackson, 
then  august,  though  only  forty-five  years  old.  On  the  other 
side  all  six  houses  were  owned  and  occupied  by  our  family  and 
near  of  kin."  In  a  letter  to  Sarah  Orne  Jewett,  Colonel  Lee 
gives  another  sketch  of  the  social  surroundings  in  which  the 
young  Higginsons  passed  their  boyhood :  — 

1  See  T.  W.  Higginson's  Life  of  Francis  Higginson,  p.  150. 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  15 

"In  Boston  in  my  boyhood  the  houses  were  for  the  most 
part  detached  garden  houses;  there  was  no  quarter  for  the  rich; 
they  and  the  poor,  successful  and  unsuccessful  members  of  the 
same  family,  perhaps,  —  at  least  of  the  same  stock,  —  dwelt  in 
the  same  quarter;  there  were  only  enough  foreigners  to  exer- 
cise benevolence  on,  not  to  intrude;  families  and  friends  built 
courts  (no  thoroughfares)  to  dwell  in  together,  and  there  was 
a  personal  recognition  and  cooperation  in  all  affairs,  —  social, 
municipal,  ecclesiastical,  educational,  —  which  was  whole- 
some. We  all  lived  in  this  little  world ;  all  our  work  and  all  our 
play  were  there." 

If  one  stands  to-day  in  the  sunless,  hideous  canyon  of 
Chauncy  Street,  between  Bedford  and  Summer  Streets,  he 
will  realize  how  utterly  the  pleasant  little  world  of  Henry 
Higginson's  boyhood  has  vanished.  This  portion  of  Chauncy 
Street  did  not  become  a  thoroughfare  until  1856.  In  the  eight- 
een-forties  its  westerly  half,  a  court  running  eastward  from 
Bedford  Street,  was  known  as  Bedford  Place.  A  brick  wall, 
and  afterward  a  chain  and  posts,  surmounted  by  an  iron  arch 
bearing  a  lamp-post,  divided  Bedford  Place  from  Chauncy 
Place,  which  opened  into  Summer  Street.  Summer  Street,  at 
that  time,  deserved  its  name.  It  was  a  winding  river  of  elm 
and  horse-chestnut  trees  and  sunshine,  bordered  with  beautiful 
houses,  lawns,  and  gardens  —  the  homes  of  merchant  princes 
and  of  Daniel  Webster.  Chauncy  Place  and  Bedford  Place 
were  like  quiet  eddies  of  this  stately  stream.  On  the  northerly 
side  of  Chauncy  Street  was  the  First  Church,  where  Emerson's 
father  had  been  minister.  Then  came  the  Chauncy  Hall 
School,  and  beyond  it,  marking  the  transition  to  Bedford  Place, 
Judge  Charles  Jackson's  house,  with  its  perfect  doorway,  and 
the  great  pear  garden,  beyond  which  could  be  seen  the  walls 
of  the  Second  Church.1 

Opposite  this  garden,  on  the  south  side  of  Bedford  Place, 

1  See  Dr.  James  Jackson  Putnam's  Memoir  of  Dr.  James  Jackson  (Boston,  1906), 
P-  ii4- 


16  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

were  the  dwellings  of  the  clansmen.  George  Higginson  lived 
for  many  years  in  Xo.  2,  flanked  by  Lees  and  Paines;  and  there 
were  Lowells  and  Jacksons  and  Morses  for  good  company. 
After  a  while,  George  Higginson  moved  a  few  doors  east  on 
Chauncy  Place,  near  Dr.  Henry  Bigelow;  and  when  the  city 
changed  Bedford  Place  and  Chauncy  Place  into  Chauncy 
Street,  in  1856,  his  house  became  No.  22  Chauncy  Street. 

It  was  a  community  of  kinsfolk  in  a  deeper  sense  than  is  im- 
plied in  mere  relationship  by  marriage.  When  George  Higgin- 
son's  children  were  born,  Boston  had  a  homogeneous  society. 
"The  great  Irish  and  German  emigrations,"  says  Edmund 
Quincy,1  "had  not  then  set  in.  The  city  was  eminently  Eng- 
lish in  its  character  and  appearance,  and  probably  no  town  of 
its  size  in  England  had  a  population  of  such  unmixed  English 
descent  as  the  Boston  of  forty  years  ago.  It  was  Anglis  ipsis 
Anglior  —  more  English  than  the  English  themselves."  This 
remark  is  just  as  true  of  the  Higginsons  and  Lees,  —  who, 
like  the  Jacksons,  Cabots,  and  Lowells,  had  migrated  into 
Boston  from  Essex  County,  —  as  it  was  of  the  families  who 
had  lived  in  Boston  since  the  seventeenth  century. 

But  the  decade  of  Henry  Higginson's  birth  saw  the  begin- 
nings of  a  vast  change.2  The  eighteen-thirties  were  like  one  of 
those  fine  days  which  born  New  Englanders  cannot  help  re- 
garding as  weather-breeders.  Some  of  the  older  Bostonians 
were  quite  aware  that  the  golden  weather  could  not  last. 
George  Ticknor,  writing  in  1863,  thus  refers  to  a  remark  made 
to  him  a  generation  earlier:  — 

1  Life  of  Josiak  Quincy  (Boston,  1868),  p.  396. 

2  "The  break  between  the  old  and  the  new  came  some  time  in  the  thirties,  and 
1850  was  well  within  the  new  period.  Yet  at  that  date  this  new  period  was  still  very 
new,  hardly  more  than  a  dozen  years  old,  and  the  ideas  of  the  earlier  time  —  the 
habits,  the  modes  of  life,  although  mortally  smitten  and  fast  fading  —  were  still 
felt,  still  dominant.  The  men  and  women  of  the  elder  time  with  the  old  feelings  and 
habits  were,  of  course,  very  numerous,  and  for  the  most  part  were  quite  uncon- 
scious that  their  world  was  slipping  away  from  them.  Hence  the  atmosphere  of  our 
old  stone  house,  with  its  lane,  its  pear-trees,  and  its  garden  nymph,  indeed  of  Bos- 
ton itself,  was  still  an  eighteenth-century  atmosphere."  Henry  Cabot  Lodge, 
Early  Memories  (New  York,  1913),  p.  16. 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  17 

"Dr.  Bowditch  said  to  me,  above  thirty  years  ago,  in  a  man- 
ner so  impressive  that  I  remember  the  spot  where  we  stood, 
and  rarely  pass  it  without  recalling  the  circumstances:  'We 
are  living  in  the  best  days  of  the  republic.  That  the  worst  will 
follow  soon  does  not  seem  to  me  very  likely.  But  nations 
advance,  and  thrive,  and  die,  like  men;  and  can  no  more  have 
a  second  youth  than  their  inhabitants  can.'"1 

Long  before  the  great  fire  of  1872  swept  over  Summer  Street, 
that  pleasant  Boston  world  which  Summer  Street  epitomized 
and  symbolized  had  begun  its  passing.  Henry  Higginson  was 
to  live  to  see  it  all :  the  decay  of  the  old  commerce,  the  growth 
of  mills  and  railroads,  the  War,  the  development  of  the  West, 
the  fierce  surge  of  immigration,  new  social  and  economic  and 
political  forces  submerging  and  obliterating  the  Boston  of  his 
youth.  But  his  affection  for  the  city  was  invincible  by  any 
change,  and  it  is  pleasant  to  find  that  his  very  earliest  letters 
have  to  do  with  Boston  Common !  These  letters  date  from  Jan- 
uary and  February,  1846,  when  his  brother  James,  to  whom  he 
was  writing,  was  exiled  temporarily  at  Newton  Lower  Falls. 
"The  coasting  which  was  down  Park  Street  on  the  sidewalk 
next  the  Common  was  spoilt  this  morning  while  we  were  in 
school  by  being  strewed  with  ashes  from  the  top  to  the  bottom 
and  all  the  fun  is  in  snowballing  and  what  little  coasting  there 
is.  .  .  .  Mother  gave  me  two  half  sticks  of  candy  of  different 
kinds  this  evening  and  I  have  sent  them  to  you.  If  you  would 
like  some  newspapers  to  read,  or  books,  write  to  me  and  say  so 
and  I  will  send  them  out  to  you." 

This  letter  is  typical :  — 

Sunday,  Jan.  25th,  1846. 

My  dear  James  father  says  he  could  make  no  use  of  a  cigar 
and  I  think  I  shall  not  get  one  and  neither  George  nor  I  want 
to  spend  any  money  except  for  a  looking  glass  which  he  hap- 
pened to  break  by  throwing  a  slipper  at  me  up  in  our  room  and 
we  wish  to  have  it  mended  and  pay  for  it  ourselves  as  it  was 

1  Life  and  Letters  of  George  Ticknor,  vol.  n,  p.  464. 
3 


18  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

partly  my  fault.   We  have  got  some  coasting  and  I  looked  at 
the  pond  this  morning  as  I  went  up  Beacon  Street  and  it  looked 
as  if  it  had  very  little  snow  upon  it  but  still  I  believe  there  has 
been  nobody  skating  there.  There  was  some  coasting  down  the 
great  coast  but  it  was  nearly  worn  down  yesterday  at  II 
o'clock.    To-day  I  saw  that  there  had  been  coasting  down 
Park  Street  mall  after  I  left  it.  It  is  so  warm  to-day  that  it  is 
melting  every  where  and  a  great  deal  of  snow  is  tumbling  off 
the  houses  and  the  glass  at  about  3  o'clock  was  at  46  or  47. 
Mr.  Peabody  l  christened  4  babies  at  9  A.M.  After  reading  the 
first  part  he  took  cousin  Lydia's  baby  and  christened  it  Sarah. 
Then  he  took  cousin  Harriet  Minot's  and  christened  it  Sarah 
Cabot.    Next  cousin  Lucy  Morse's  oldest  and  christened  it 
Charles  Jackson.    Next  her  youngest  and  christened  it  Eben 
Rollins.   Uncle  Frank  is  quite  well  he  wears  moustaches  and  a 
long  beard  and  he  has  got  one  of  those  great  pearl  buttons  as 
big  as  a  circle  cut  out  of  the  palm  of  your  hand  but  he  did  not 
wear  it  to-day.   He  wore  a  blue  one.   He  said  there  were  lots 
of  bows  and  arrows  coming  home  for  us  and  his  birds  are  com- 
ing home  with  Gordon  Dexter.   We  are  going  to  have  no  war 
it  is  thought  as  Sir  Robert  Peel  is  taken  back  into  the  ministry 
and  he  is  for  peace.   Aunt  likes  her  music-box  very  much  but 
I  have  not  seen  it  and  she  says  I  must  come  in  and  see  it  to- 
morrow evening.  I  went  to  dancing  school  yesterday  afternoon 
as  usual  and  as  there  was  a  meeting  of  the  classes  it  was  very 
full  and  we  had  to  stand  for  the  last  2  or  3  hours  we  were  there 
unless  we  were  willing  to  sit  down  on  the  floor  which  I  did  part 
of  the  time  I  was  so  tired,    we  are  all  well  and  Frank  sends  a 
kiss  and  his  love  and  George  and  myself  also,  good  bye 

your  affectionate  brother  Henry. 

Sometimes,  evidently,  the  matter  of  clothing  the  young  Hig- 
ginsons  required  prompt  action,  and  the  family  dressmaker 
had  to  be  prodded. 

1  Reverend  Ephraim  Peabody,  minister  of  King's  Chapel. 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  19 

I  went  to  Miss  Powers  Friday  morning  and  she  said  her  sis- 
ter had  not  come  and  I  do  not  think  she  will  come  at  all.  Mr. 
Davis  had  cut  both  our  jackets  out  of  the  blue  pantaloons  but 
he  had  gone  away  and  had  put  them  away  and  she  could  not 
get  them  till  Thursday,  I  believe.  She  had  got  my  pantaloons 
nearly  done,  but  I  said  I  wanted  my  jacket  first  and  so  she 
went  to  work  on  that.  She  said  my  clothes  would  be  done  on 
Wednesday.  Their  squirrel  is  sick.  The  tall  Miss  Powers  does 
not  look  as  if  she  had  much  Power. 

This  is  the  first  pun  —  or  what  "Jim"  Savage  and  "Char- 
ley ' '  Lowell  later  called  a  ' '  Higgism  "  —  in  the  correspondence ! 
It  is  not  the  last. 

Henry's  boyish  efforts  to  give  appropriate  presents  within 
his  slender  allowance  are  illustrated  by  the  adventure  in  buy- 
ing a  cheese-knife,  apparently  for  his  mother  (July  12, 1847) :  — 

I  went  to  Mr.  Hunt's  the  cutler  to  see  about  the  cheese-knife, 
and  he  sent  me  to  Jones's.  Jones  had  none  and  he  sent  me  to 
Bradford's.  I  had  to  wait  twenty  minutes  there,  at  last  they 
told  me  they  had  got  some.  I  asked  to  see  them  and  they 
showed  them  to  me.  They  are  just  like  grandmother's  only 
there  is  a  thing,  that  slips  up  and  down,  with  which  you  push 
the  cheese  off  the  blade,  having  scooped  it  out.  I  asked 
if  they  had  no  plain  ones  (like  grandmother's,  that  is),  but  he 
said  that  they  had  not.  I  then  asked  the  price  of  that  and  he 
said  4  dollars.    I  cleared  out. 

August  15,  1847.  To-day  I  went  to  Church  in  the  morning 
and  cousin  Wentworth  preached  a  very  fine  sermon.  We  ex- 
pect him  here  this  evening  to  tea  and  to  pass  the  night. 

The  sound  New  England  tradition  of  manual  labor  for  boys 
was  duly  observed  by  the  young  Higginsons.  The  postscript 
to  the  letter  just  quoted  remarks:  — 


20  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

This  morning  when  I  came  from  school  I  got  what  little  ice 
there  was  off  our  sidewalk  and  aunt's  and  as  it  was  quite  slip- 
pery I  put  some  hot  sand  on  it.  We  were  warned  to  do  so  by 
George's  slipping  upon  it  and  bruising  his  eye  quite  badly. 
After  I  had  got  the  ice  off  I  went  down  cellar  to  pick  over  the 
rest  of  the  potatoes  and  finished  that  and  I  was  very  tired  with 
stooping  over  them  as  I  had  poured  them  out  on  to  the  floor 
and  I  was  quite  cold  and  very  dirty  because  I  went  without 
my  jacket  so  that  I  should  not  dirty  it  and  I  did  not  have  any 
frock  on.  ...  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  the  babies  were  very 
good  and  quiet  at  the  christening.    Good  bye 

Your  affectionate  brother  Henry 

surnamed  Hal  or  Harry  or 

Henry  Joseph. 

P.S.  all  are  well. 

A  letter  of  Henry  to  his  sister  Mary,  written  from  Pittsfield 
in  August,  1849,  just  before  his  mother's  death,  gives  a  pleas- 
ant picture  of  Dr.  Holmes,  who  had  evidently  been  talking  to 
the  boy  on  the  Doctor's  favorite  topic  of  big  elm  trees:  — 

We  have  been  over  this  afternoon  to  Dr.  Holmes's  house. 
There  is  a  beautiful  view  of  the  hills,  and  woods,  and  of  the 
banks  of  the  Housatonic,  but  you  cannot  see  the  river.  They 
look  very  well,  and  happy.  The  farm  is  two  hundred  and 
eighty-six  acres.  He  has  no  trees  round  the  house,  and  he  needs 
them  very  much.  There  are  a  great  many  horses,  cows,  pigs, 
fowls,  etc.  In  the  town,  there  is  an  elm,  that  is  of  the  ancient 
forest,  that  is  when  the  forest  that  extended  all  over  the  coun- 
try was  cut  down  this  tree  was  left,  and,  if  you  will  notice,  you 
will  see  that  the  trees  growing  in  a  wood  do  not  throw  out  any 
limbs,  till  they  reach  the  light,  so  this  tree  grew  eighty-six  feet 
high,  before  it  threw  out  any  limbs.  You  must  tell  Frank,  that 
I  will  write  him  a  letter  pretty  soon.  Your  affectionate  brother 

Henrie  L.  Higginson. 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  21 

Henry  was  now  half-way  through  a  somewhat  broken  course 
at  the  Boston  Latin  School.  As  a  small  boy  he  had  attended 
a  neighborhood  school  kept  by  Miss  Elizabeth  Ripley,  and 
then  one  kept  by  Miss  Elizabeth  Peabody,  the  sister  of  Mrs. 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  At  eight  he  was  taught  by  Mr.  Phelps; 
and  when  his  eyes  failed  at  the  Latin  School,  he  was  for  a 
time  at  Reverend  Mr.  Eustis's  farm  at  Blue  Hill.  Mr.  Fred 
Williams  also  tutored  him. 

But  the  chief  factor  in  his  education  was  the  Latin  School. 
Founded  in  1635,  and  thus  the  most  ancient  of  American  pub- 
lic schools,  it  occupied  from  1844  to  1881  an  ugly  three-story 
brick  building,  with  granite  facade,  on  Bedford  Street,  not 
far  from  Bedford  Place.  The  situation  was  unfavorable.  The 
street  was  noisy,  there  was  no  playground,  the  staircases  were 
dark,  and  the  ventilation  wretched.  The  head-master,  Epes 
Sargent  Dixwell,  had  reigned  since  1836,  and  held  office  until 

1 85 1,  when  he  established  a  private  fitting-school  on  Boylston 
Place.  Associated  with  him  during  Henry  Higginson's  school- 
life  was  Francis  Gardner,  who  succeeded  Dixwell  as  head- 
master. Three  of  the  Higginson  boys  attended  the  Latin 
School,  Henry  entering  in  1846,  James  in  1848,  and  Frank  in 

1852.  Among  the  older  boys,  when  Henry  entered,  were  his 
friends  Greely  Curtis,  C.  W.  Eliot,  C.  R.  Lowell,  W.  C.  Paine, 
J.  Q.  Adams,  and  James  Savage.  Phillips  Brooks,  Powell 
Mason,  and  R.  T.  Paine  entered  with  Henry  Higginson,  while 
C.  F.  Adams,  William  Amory,  and  Richard  Cary  entered  with 
James  Higginson  in  1848.  Charles  Adams's  strictures  on  the 
Latin  School  are  known  to  all  readers  of  his  "Autobiography" ; 
and  Henry  Adams,  who  was  fitted  for  Harvard  in  Mr.  Dix- 
well's  private  school,  has  printed  an  unflattering  picture  of 
both  school  and  college. 

Says  Charles  Adams:  "I  was  at  the  Latin  School  three 
years;  my  brother  John  was  at  it  five.  I  loathed  it,  and  John 
loathed  it  worse  than  I.  Not  one  single  cheerful  or  satisfactory 
memory  is  with  me  associated  therewith.    Its  methods  were 


22  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

bad,  its  standards  low,  its  rooms  unspeakably  gloomy.  It  was 
a  dull,  traditional,  lifeless  day-academy,  in  which  a  conven- 
tional, commonplace,  platoon-front,  educational  drill  was 
carried  on." 

Henry  Higginson's  language  about  the  Latin  School  was  cer- 
tainly not  affectionate.  He  wrote  to  Mrs.  Agnes  Fuller  in 
1 91 9:  "When  I  think  of  my  own  days  at  the  Latin  School 

—  five  years  of  time  —  and  that  nobody  ever  taught  me  any- 
thing, the  boys  being  allowed  to  learn  their  lessons  or  not  as 
they  chose,  and  being  punished  accordingly;  when  I  think  of 
the  waste  of  time  and  what  I  might  have  learned  if  I  had  been 
taught,  I  do  not  feel  pleasant."  He  was  equally  incapable  of 
the  fervid  school-loyalty  which  his  friend  Phillips  Brooks  ex- 
pressed in  the  address  at  the  250th  anniversary,  or  of  the  dis- 
passionate candor  with  which  his  friend  President  Eliot 
summed  up  the  strong  and  weak  points  of  the  Latin  School  at 
the  275th  anniversary,  in  1910.  His  boyish  letters  reveal  his 
feeling  that  the  teachers  at  the  Latin  School  and  the  tutors  at 
Harvard  College  —  many  of  whom  were  graduates  of  the 
school  —  lacked  nobility  and  generosity  of  character;  that 
they  cared  more  for  books  than  for  boys  and  men;  that  their 
methods  of  government  were  small  and  mean. 

In  the  prescribed  routine  of  Latin,  Greek,  and  Mathematics 
he  did  not  distinguish  himself,  —  in  spite  of  the  "two  prizes," 

—  and  probably  would  not  have  done  so  even  if  his  eyes  had 
given  him  no  trouble.  Two  of  his  school  compositions,  on 
"Gunpowder"  and  "The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore,"  duly  cor- 
rected by  his  masters,  were  preserved  among  his  papers.  They 
are  painstaking,  but  mediocre. 

Yet  outside  the  schoolroom  Henry's  prowess  was  unques- 
tioned. In  "The  Education  of  Henry  Adams "  there  is  a  record 
of  one  disastrous  day. 

"One  of  the  commonest  boy-games  of  winter,  inherited  di- 
rectly from  the  eighteenth  century,  was  a  game  of  war  on  Bos- 
ton Common.    In  old  days  the  two  hostile  forces  were  called 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  23 

North-Enders  and  South-Enders.  In  1850  the  North-Enders 
still  survived  as  a  legend,  but  in  practice  it  was  a  battle  of  the 
Latin  School  against  all  comers,  and  the  Latin  School,  for 
snowball,  included  all  the  boys  of  the  West  End.  Whenever, 
on  a  half-holiday,  the  weather  was  soft  enough  to  soften  the 
snow,  the  Common  was  apt  to  be  the  scene  of  a  fight,  which 
began  in  daylight  with  the  Latin  School  in  force,  rushing  their 
opponents  down  to  Tremont  Street,  and  which  generally  ended 
at  dark  by  the  Latin  School  dwindling  in  numbers  and  disap- 
pearing. As  the  Latin  School  grew  weak,  the  roughs  and  young 
blackguards  grew  strong.  As  long  as  snowballs  were  the  only 
weapon,  no  one  was  much  hurt,  but  a  stone  may  be  put  in  a 
snowball,  and  in  the  dark  a  stick  or  a  slungshot  in  the  hands  of 
a  boy  is  as  effective  as  a  knife.  One  afternoon  the  fight  had 
been  long  and  exhausting.  The  boy  Henry,  following,  as  his 
habit  was,  his  bigger  brother  Charles,  had  taken  part  in  the 
battle,  and  felt  his  courage  much  depressed  by  seeing  one  of  his 
trustiest  leaders,  Henry  Higginson,  —  'Bully  Hig,'  his  school 
name, —  struck  by  a  stone  over  the  eye,  and  led  off  the  field 
bleeding  in  rather  a  ghastly  manner." 

All  the  Higginson  boys,  it  may  be  noted  here,  were  notor- 
iously unlucky  in  the  matter  of  physical  injuries;  but  as  soon 
as  they  were  patched  up,  they  invariably  tried  the  game  again. 

Oddly  enough,  no  Higginson  of  the  direct  paternal  line  since 
Francis  Higginson,  the  original  emigrant,  had  held  a  college 
degree.  They  did  not  belong  to  what  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes, 
speaking  of  Emerson's  ancestry,  called  "the  academic  races." 
But  "Cousin  Waldo"  and  "Cousin  Wentworth,"  "Uncle 
Harry"  Lee,  and  many  other  remoter  kinsmen,  had  been  Har- 
vard men,  and  George  Higginson  wished  his  sons  to  go  to  col- 
lege. The  eldest,  George,  chose  what  Wendell  Phillips  mel- 
lifluously  described  as  "the  better  education  of  practical  life," 
and  turned  farmer.  It  was  Henry,  then,  who  had  to  serve  as 
pioneer  in  that  perilous  venture  across  the  Charles  River. 
His  career  was  brief. 


24  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

In  a  little  package  of  Harvard  souvenirs  found  after  his 
death,  is  this  blue-tinted  certificate,  bearing  the  bold  auto- 
graph of  Jared  Sparks:  — 

HARVARD  COLLEGE 
CERTIFICATE  OF  ADMISSION 

Cambridge,  July  16th,  1851. 
H.  L.  Higginson  is  admitted  a  member  of  the  Freshman 
Class  in  Harvard  College  on  probation,  and  on  condition  of 
passing  a  satisfactory  examination  in  the  following  studies  at 
the  end  of  the  Vacation :  — 

Latin  Composition,  Compounded  proportions  and  interest  in 
Arithmetic  and  Equations  in  Algebra. 

Jared  Sparks 
President. 

Henry  Higginson,  future  banker,  conditioned  in  "interest 
in  arithmetic" !  But  into  Harvard  he  went,  for  his  Steward's 
certificate,  dated  August,  1851,  and  carefully  preserved,  at- 
tests that  "Henry  L.  Higginson  has  complied  with  the  law  re- 
specting admission  to  the  Freshman  Class."  Among  his  class- 
mates were  several  boys  with  whom  his  associations,  either 
then  or  later,  were  intimate:  Alexander  Agassiz,  whose  sister 
he  was  to  marry;  S.  Parkman  Blake,  who  married  Henry's 
sister;  William  Amory,  F.  C.  Barlow,  Phillips  Brooks,  Chan- 
ning  Clapp,  E.  B.  Dalton,  George  Dexter,  R.  T.  Paine,  and 
Stephen  G.  Perkins.  Amory,  Dexter,  Higginson,  and  Perkins 
all  roomed  at  "Mr.  B.  F.  Wyeth's."  In  the  Sophomore  class, 
'54,  were  J.  C.  Bancroft,  C.  R.  Lowell,  and  James  Savage. 
Among  the  Juniors,  '53,  were  J.  Q.  Adams,  Wilder  Dwight, 
C.  W.  Eliot,  A.  S.  Hill,  and  C.  J.  Paine.  Joseph  H.  Choate  and 
James  B.  Thayer  were  Seniors.  There  were  only  304  students 
in  the  College  proper,  and  a  total  of  631  in  all  departments. 

In  the  officers  of  Harvard  College  there  was  surely  distinc- 
tion enough.    In  the  catalogue  of  1851-52,  —  the  only  cata- 


HENRY   L.    HIGGINSON 
Class  photograph  (1855) 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  25 

logue  to  bear  the  name  of  Henry  L.  Higginson  until  after  1882, 
when  he  received  the  honorary  degree  of  A.M.,  —  the  list  of 
Fellows  is  headed  by  Lemuel  Shaw.  Daniel  Webster  and 
Edward  Everett  were  among  the  Overseers,  Theophilus  Par- 
sons was  teaching  in  the  Law  School,  and  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes  was  Dean  of  the  Medical  School.  Among  the  pro- 
fessors in  Harvard  College  proper  were  Longfellow  and 
Agassiz,  Asa  Gray  and  Benjamin  Peirce.  Professors  Felton 
and  Sophocles  taught  Greek;  Lane  was  just  beginning  his 
professorship  of  Latin,  and  Child  was  succeeding  Edward  T. 
Channing  as  Boylston  Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Oratory. 

But  to  a  freshman  like  Henry  Higginson  these  shining  names 
meant  little:  he  recited,  for  better  or  worse,  to  tutors  trained 
in  the  traditions  already  wearisome  to  him  in  the  Latin  School. 
There  were  the  four  rigidly  prescribed  subjects  of  the  Fresh- 
man year,  —  Latin,  Greek,  mathematics,  and  a  little  history, 
—  and  if  a  boy  were  not  a  scholar  by  nature,  it  was  all  a  tread- 
mill round.  One  need  not  turn  to  the  disillusioned  reminis- 
cences of  the  Adams  brothers  to  be  aware  that  Boston  boys, 
proceeding  to  Harvard  as  a  matter  of  course,  because  it  was 
expected  of  them,  often  failed  then,  as  they  have  failed  in  so 
many  college  generations  since,  to  lift  up  their  eyes  to  new 
horizons  of  the  mind  and  spirit. 

Except  in  the  "football  fight"  on  "Bloody  Monday," 
where  his  exhibition  of  strength  and  skill  grew  into  a  family 
tradition,  young  Higginson  made  no  mark.  Like  two  others  of 
that  joyous  little  band  at  "  Mr.  B.  F.  Wyeth's,"  —  Amory  and 
Perkins,  —  he  found  that  his  eyes  began  to  fail.  Was  it  "ex- 
posure to  the  early  morning  air,"  necessitated  by  required 
Chapel,  or  was  there  no  good  oculist  in  Boston?  The  evidence 
inclines  one  to  take  the  latter  alternative. 

At  any  rate,  it  was  evident  by  December  that  the  condition 
of  the  boy's  eyes  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  leave  college,  at 
least  temporarily.  Dr.  Bethune,  who  was  consulted,  thought 
it  might  be  well  to  try  a  six  weeks'  treatment  at  the  then 


26  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

famous  "Water-Cure  Establishment"  of  Dr.  Wesselhoeft  at 
Brattleboro,  Vermont.  Dr.  Francis  Higginson  of  Brattleboro 
was  a  kinsman,  and  there  was  a  swarm  of  aunts  and  cousins  to 
furnish  agreeable  society.  Fortified  against  the  rigors  of  a 
Vermont  winter  with  India-rubber  boots,  —  then  a  novelty,  — 
mittens,  extra  blankets,  and  a  sack  of  Spitzbergen  apples  from 
home,  the  boy  seems  to  have  endured  his  exile  cheerfully 
enough,  and  his  sister  learned  later  that  he  was  "an  important 
person  at  the  establishment."  The  various  aunts  and  cousins 
were  kind  to  him,  and  Stephen  Perkins  and  Charles  Lowell  — 
neither  of  whom  was  then  in  good  condition  —  came  up  to 
visit  him  for  a  while.  But  the  weeks  and  months  dragged  by 
without  any  perceptible  improvement.  By  March  the  furni- 
ture from  his  Cambridge  room  was  stored  in  the  garret  at 
Bedford  Place.  The  Harvard  game  was  up  —  at  least  for  the 
present. 

What  next?  A  long  sea- voyage  was  discussed  —  that  pre- 
scription for  weak  eyes  having  been  popular  among  Boston 
youths  ever  since  R.  H.  Dana's  "Two  Years  Before  the  Mast" 
experience,  some  fifteen  years  earlier.  But  as  the  spring  came 
on,  Henry  proposed  a  foot- journey  in  Germany  and  Switzer- 
land. His  father  demurred  at  first,  thinking  that  the  boy's 
loneliness  and  ignorance  of  European  languages  would  be 
serious  obstacles.  But  he  found  that  various  Boston  friends 
had  tried  the  experiment  successfully,  George  S.  Hale  for  in- 
stance, at  the  cost  of  only  $800  for  a  year  —  and  discovered 
in  the  "New  York  Christian  Inquirer"  a  notice  concerning  a 
"cultivated"  person  in  slender  health  who  proposed  to  make 
a  pedestrian  tour  in  Europe  and  desired  a  companion.  The 
cultivated  person  turned  out  to  be  a  Reverend  Mr.  Eliot,  an 
Orthodox  clergyman  of  Northampton.  Henry  called  upon 
him  in  April,  on  his  way  home  from  Brattleboro,  and  they 
agreed  to  meet  in  London  in  June,  and  to  travel  together  as 
long  as  it  proved  mutually  agreeable. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  the  boy,  still  lacking  six  months  of 


THE  "COMBINED  INFLUENCE"  2-] 

his  eighteenth  year,  sailed  from  New  York  on  a  Saturday  after- 
noon in  May,  on  board  the  packet  Constitution,  Captain  Brit- 
ton  commanding.  She  was  reputed  to  be  the  finest  ship  then 
sailing  out  of  New  York.  George  Higginson  saw  his  son  off. 
11 1  watched  her  from  the  pier  till  she  was  under  way,"  he  wrote ; 
and  then  the  yearning,  solicitous  little  man  hurried  back  to 
Boston,  to  the  tiny  counting-room  on  State  Street,  and  the 
four  motherless  children. 


CHAPTER  II 

FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE 

Long  the  quest  and  far  the  ending 
When  my  wayfarer  is  wending  — 

When  desire  is  once  afoot, 
Doom  behind  and  dream  attending! 

—  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts,  Afoot. 

The  Constitution  ran  into  fogs,  calms,  and  head-winds,  and 
was  thirty  days  at  sea,  not  reaching  Liverpool  until  the 
seventh  of  June. 

Henry's  state-room  companion,  as  he  wrote  in  his  first 
letter  home,  "was  the  pleasantest  man  on  board,  a  young 
Irishman,  tho'  he  is  thoroughly  English  in  feelings  and  opin- 
ions, and  I  am  told  in  appearance.  .  .  .  The  Captain  was 
worried  very  much  by  our  ill-luck,  and  there  were  some  pas- 
sengers who  kept  asking  questions  and  giving  advice  and  med- 
dling generally.  ...  I  got  along  very  pleasantly  with  him, 
as  I  was  careful  not  to  worry  him.  .  .  .  The  chief  difficulty  at 
sea  is  that  there  is  nothing  to  do.  I  walked  a  good  deal,  but 
that  is  very  tiresome,  and  I  slept  considerably;  but  the  only 
thing  in  which  I  took  any  satisfaction  was  reading,  and  I  felt 
as  guilty  when  I  was  doing  so  as  a  man  does  when  he  is  steal- 
ing; besides  knowing  that  I  was  hurting  myself.  Still,  I  read  a 
little  when  I  felt  very  desperate,  tho'  I  tried  not  to.  The  fact 
is,  I  do  not  like  the  sea  at  all."     And  he  never  did. 

His  English  Diary  begins  on  June  9,  1852,  with  the  sound  if 
not  highly  original  observations:  "Cultivation  much  better 
than  American.  .  .  .  Saw  castle  occupied  in  Conqueror's 
time.  .  .  .  Railway  stations  very  good.   Cars  not  so  good  as 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  29 

ours."  Mr.  Eliot  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  boarding-house 
then  kept  for  Americans,  at  142  Strand,  by  John  Chapman,  the 
publisher. 

I  was  a  very  green  boy  [Higginson  says  in  the  Reminiscences 
dictated  in  191 8],  saw  a  few  people,  and  did  not  know  what  to 
do  —  that  is,  had  no  "shape"  at  all.  In  Boston,  before  going 
away,  we  had  been  to  the  Italian  opera,  getting  there  seats  for 
twenty-five  cents  in  the  upper  gallery,  and  enjoying  it  highly. 
I  had  an  inborn  taste  for  music,  which  was  nourished  by  a  few 
concerts  in  Boston  and  by  the  opera.  It  was  really  a  great 
pleasure  to  us.  In  London  of  course  the  opera  was  better  and 
delighted  me. 

In  fact,  after  only  two  days  of  sight-seeing  in  London,  he 
began  going  to  the  opera. 

June  12.  Heard  Mario,  Grisi,  Marini,  Ronconi,  Polonini, 
Soldi,  in  "Puritani."  Mario  perfectly  delicious.  Best  tenor, 
and  Grisi  best  prima  donna.  Ronconi  best  baritone,  Marini 
best  bass  I  ever  heard.  Very  impassioned  acting.  Splendid 
acting  and  orchestra.  Everything  beautiful,  and  splendid, 
and  delicious.  English  ladies  very  much  like  ours,  a  little 
plumper.    Saw  one  very  handsome  girl. 

A  few  days  later  he  notes :  — 

Grisi  and  Mario  and  Ronconi  and  Marini  as  usual.  Madame 
Seguin  fair,  tho'  rather  poor ;  has  a  shaky  sort  of  a  way  of  sing- 
ing that  is  rather  in  fashion  now,  very  bad  taste.  Madame 
Julienne  has  a  fine,  full,  fresh  voice  and  sings  beautifully,  tho' 
she  wants  a  little  toning  down,  as  they  say.  A  little  want  of 
sentiment,  a  very  good  actress.  Tamberlik  sings  beautifully, 
tho'  he  can't  compare.    More  voice,  and  fuller  than  Mario's, 


30  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

but  not  so  exquisitely  soft  and  beautiful.  Has  a  little  of  the 
shaky  style.  Beautiful,  tho'.  Saw  a  criticism  on  Bosio's  debut. 
They  underrate  her  decidedly.  Formes  splendid.  The  best 
basso  I  ever  heard  and  executes  very  well  indeed  and  acts 
finely.  He  made  a  fine  devil.  Julienne  as  before,  tho'  she  is 
rather  too  ornamental.  Tamberlik  very  fine.  Stigello  very 
good  2nd  class  tenor.   Saw  the  Queen  and  Prince  Albert. 

The  Northampton  clergyman,  who  was  still  under  thirty, 
and  who  was  convinced  after  a  long  talk  with  the  clear-headed 
Boston  boy  that  his  own  itinerary  for  the  next  two  months  had 
been  badly  planned,  now  left  for  Paris,  agreeing  to  meet 
Higginson  in  Antwerp. 

We  had  a  conversation  yesterday  [the  boy  wrote  on  June 
15]  in  which  he  said  that  he  thought  we  had  both  better  under- 
stand that,  if  either  wished  to  part,  if  he  found  company  that 
was  more  to  his  taste,  or  I  did,  or  we  found  we  wished  to  go 
different  ways,  we  both  were  at  liberty  to  do  as  we  please 
without  offense.  He  said  that  we  could  not  tell  how  well  we 
should  suit  each  other  without  trying,  but  that  he  might  find 
some  ministers  out  here  whose  company  he  might  like  better 
than  mine,  for,  as  he  said,  our  religious  opinions  differ,  though 
I  don't  think  I  have  any  in  particular  except  that  I  don't 
believe  all  that  he  does,  and  I  don't  believe  he  ever  heard  me 
say  a  word  about  it  except  I  said  something  about  Mr.  Pea- 
body,1  and  I  went  to  the  opera,  which  he  thinks  wrong.  But 
he  was  very  pleasant  about  it  and  I  am  glad  he  said  it,  for  I 
much  prefer  being  entirely  at  liberty. 

And  he  added,  a  few  days  later:  "I  have  found  him  a  re- 
markably agreeable,  pleasant,  well-informed  and  liberal- 
minded  man,  notwithstanding  his  Orthodoxy." 

The  Reminiscences  continue  the  story. 

1  Rev.  Ephraim  Peabody,  the  Higginsons'  pastor  at  King's  Chapel. 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  31 

One  morning  I  took  the  train  and  the  boat  to  Ostend,  ar- 
rived there  after  some  sickness,  and  got  ashore  at  about  six 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  I  remember  we  were  met  at  the  land- 
ing by  various  porters,  and  one  large  fellow  seized  my  luggage 
on  his  shoulders  and  marched  me  up  to  the  hotel.  There  a  very 
civil  man  with  a  large  beard  bowed  to  me  and  addressed  me  in 
two  tongues,  and  then  said:  "Do  you  want  a  room?"  I  said: 
"  I  do."  Having  got  that  room,  I  was  afraid  to  go  downstairs 
to  get  anything  to  eat,  because  I  had  no  words,  and,  therefore, 
I  went  to  bed  without  supper.  The  next  day  I  got  some  break- 
fast, and  took  the  railroad  to  Bruges,  where  I  passed  part  of 
the  day,  and  then  to  Antwerp,  where  I  met  Mr.  Eliot.  I 
passed  a  few  days  there  and  at  various  others  of  the  Belgian 
cities,  and  presently  reached  Cologne,  and  from  there  went  to 
Bonn.  For  some  reason  or  other  Mr.  Eliot  left  me  there,  and 
I  walked  from  Bonn  to  Coblentz,  and  then  to  Mainz.  From 
that  city  I  went  to  Frankfort,  where  I  passed  two  or  three 
days  looking  about,  and  somehow  or  other  ran  across  a  culti- 
vated Englishman  who  was  one  of  the  tutors  at  Cambridge, 
England.  We  struck  up  an  acquaintance,  and  I  went  with  him 
to  Heidelberg,  and  then  to  Freiburg,  and  I  enjoyed  being  with 
this  gentleman,  who  invited  me  to  come  to  see  him  in  England 
when  I  returned  to  that  country.  At  Basle  I  waited  a  few 
days  again  for  Mr.  Eliot,  and  then  we  began  a  tramp  through 
Switzerland,  which  had  been  the  object  of  my  going  to  Europe. 

Some  details  from  the  Diary  will  show  the  boy's  energy  in 
Switzerland. 

Aug.  2,  1852.  Left  Lucerne  at  6,  to  Stannstadt,  and  to  Mey- 
ringen  over  the  Briinig  pass.  .  .  .  Walked  9  hours  and  rode 
3  hours.  Rain. 

Aug.  3.  Took  a  guide,  Ulrich  Lauemer.  Left  Meyringen  at 
quarter  of  six  over  the  Susten  Pass.  Very  long  and  hard,  but 
very  fine,  to  Vaasen.    Saw  the  Stein  glacier.    28  miles  over 


32  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

mountains.  Two  hours  on  horses,  from  Vaasen  to  Hospenthal. 
Over  part  of  St.  Gothard,  in  carriage  2  hours.  Saw  the  Devil's 
bridge,  very  fine  indeed.   In  at  9  o'clock.   Rain. 

In  a  letter  from  Dresden  in  the  following  March,  to  his  class- 
mate Ned  Browne,  Higginson  gives  some  details  of  this  climb, 
together  with  an  interesting  message  to  Alexander  Agassiz, 
also  his  classmate  and  afterward  his  brother-in-law :  — 

I,  never  imagining  that  it  would  be  so  very  cold,  took  nothing 
to  cover  my  hands,  and  afterwards,  when  we  were  creeping  up 
as  best  we  could  in  the  snow,  using  all  the  muscles  given  us, 
my  hands  became  so  stiff  that  I  could  hardly  hold  anything; 
just  then  my  feet  gave  way,  and  I  had  nothing  to  stand  on.  I 
was  the  first  of  us  three,  with  one  guide  in  front  and  one  be- 
hind, and  if  I  failed  (we  were  all  bound  together  in  a  line)  and 
thus  pulled  down  the  guide  in  front,  we  were  all  as  good  as 
dead,  whereas  if  the  next  man  failed,  there  were  two  in  front 
to  hold  him ;  therefore  I  was  anxious,  and  when  my  feet  failed, 
I  could  hardly  hold  the  rope  in  my  hands  on  account  of  the 
cold,  for  the  guide  to  pull  me  up.  But  the  worst  was  on  the 
face  of  a  great  rock  pretty  nearly  perpendicular,  where  we 
were  all  standing  on  a  little  ledge.  I  became  faint  from  cold 
and  anxiety;  I  do  not  think  I  was  frightened  at  all  really,  for  I 
knew  what  to  expect,  and  fear  is  hardly  a  feeling  to  come  to 
one  in  such  a  position,  unless  he  is  a  great  coward  about  every- 
thing ;  but  I  do  not  think  my  nerves  were  as  firm  as  my  com- 
panions', for  I  am  a  mere  boy,  and  they  were  both  men.  How- 
ever we  did  have  a  glorious  time,  and  I  would  gladly  go  again. 
Tell  Agassiz  that  we  were  on  the  glacier  where  his  father  made 
so  many  experiments,  the  Aar  glacier,  and  saw  where  his  hut 
used  to  stand.  There  is  now  a  German  professor  employed  in 
the  same  way,  or  rather  he  was  there  in  summer. 

Aug.  6.  Left  the  hut  at  5  o'clock.  Over  the  Strahleck;  in  at 
Grindelwald  at  5  o'clock.   Rain. 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  33 

Aug.  7.  Left  Grindelwald  at  10  o'clock  for  the  'Faulhorn. 
Ascent  quite  hard,  and  the  path  very  bad.  In  at  3  o'clock. 
Views  very  fine,  and  the  sunset  too.  Took  a  guide  up  and 
down. 

Aug.  8.  Saw  the  sunrise  on  the  Faulhorn.  Very  fine.  The 
descent  to  Giessbach  hard.  No  path  part  of  the  way.  Left  at 
7  o'clock.  In  at  12.  Saw  the  falls  of  Giessbach,  beautiful, 
seven  falls.   Fine  carvings  and  very  cheap. 

Aug.  9.  Left  Giessbach  at  2  o'clock  for  Interlaken,  the  lake 
of  Brienz  —  beautiful.  In  at  4  o'clock.  Heard  our  luggage 
from  Meyringen  was  lost.  The  hotel  at  Giessbach  charming, 
very  simple.   Sent  No.  1  to  Father.   Rain. 

A  letter  written  from  Geneva  on  August  11  to  his  father 
gives  a  fuller  account  of  his  adventures  on  the  Strahleck:  — 

.  .  .  We  arrived  at  the  Grimsel  hospice  on  Wednesday 
night,  and  the  next  day  made  preparations  for  crossing  the 
Strahleck  pass. 

It  is  necessary  to  premise  with  regard  to  this  pass,  that  it  is 
a  very  rare  thing,  in  consideration  of  the  number  of  travelers, 
to  attempt  it.  Mr.  Murray  says,  there  is  some  danger,  and  a 
great  deal  of  difficulty  in  it,  and  the  guides  say  the  same.  We 
all  desired  to  go,  for  it  was  an  uncommon  thing,  and  then  the 
views  are  very  fine  indeed. 

Therefore  we  engaged  a  second  guide,  for  we  had  had  one 
for  several  days,  and  our  provisions,  and  started  about  noon 
on  Thursday  for  a  hut  belonging  to  a  gentleman  who  makes 
experiments  yearly  on  the  Aar  glacier,  which  is  the  one  Prof. 
Agassiz  experimented  on,  and  lectured  about  particularly. 
Our  walk  was  principally  over  the  Aar  glacier,  and  its  collec- 
tion of  rocks  and  gravel,  which  is  immense,  being  two  hundred 
feet  high  at  the  end,  where  the  glacier  terminates,  otherwise  as 
high  as  Bunker  Hill  Monument.  It  is  very  hard  walking  over 
these  collections,  for  the  stones  are  very  rough  and  sharp  and 
the  glaciers  are  not  much  better.  But  we  had  a  good  time  run- 


34  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

ning  over  the  little  mounds  of  ice,  and  jumping  the  crevices 
which,  by  the  way,  are  very  frequent  and  wide,  and  if  you 
tumble  down  one  of  them,  there  is  little  chance  of  coming  out 
alive.  But  the  guides  were  always  ready  to  help  us,  and  it  is 
not  often  that  they  fall,  or  slip.  .  .  . 

We  started  off  at  five  with  prospect  of  a  fair  day;  but  after 
two  hours'  walk  on  the  glaciers,  it  began  to  rain.  Soon  after 
we  came  to  snow  on  the  glaciers,  which  makes  them  much  more 
dangerous,  as  the  cracks  are  hidden.  After  we  had  been  walk- 
ing about  an  hour  in  the  snow,  which  was  always  over  our 
shoes,  and  often  deeper,  following  the  steps  of  the  foremost 
guide,  who  tried  the  ice  with  his  pole  before  he  stepped,  Mr. 
E.  fell  —  from  one  foot's  failing  to  be  well  placed  —  on  to  his 
knee,  being  just  on  the  edge  of  a  crack.  Haldeman,  who  was 
just  in  front  of  him,  sprang  back,  and  seized  him  by  the  arm, 
and  I  ran  my  pole  under  his  other  arm,  fixing  the  point  on 
the  other  side  of  the  crack,  so  that  if  he  had  fallen  farther,  I 
should  have  merely  dropped  the  pole,  and  he  would  have  clung 
to  it.  But  he  got  out  very  easily;  so  my  help  was  of  no  use. 
The  guides  always  tell  you  to  carry  your  pole  so,  by  the  mid- 
dle, and  then  if  you  fall,  it  comes  right  across  the  crack,  if  it  is 
long  enough,  and  will  form  a  support  until  further  aid.  This 
was  all  I  could  do,  as  I  was  behind,  and  could  not  get  across 
the  crack. 

This  accident  rather  frightened  the  guides,  so  they  tied  us 
all  together,  putting  a  band  around  each  of  us,  and  then  tying 
us  by  these  at  about  eight  ft.  apart,  with  one  of  them  at  each 
end  tied  also,  and  then,  if  any  one  of  us  fell,  the  others  would 
hold  him.  I  was  placed  next  to  the  foremost  guide,  a  great 
fellow  of  six  ft.  and  very  strong,  and  therefore  felt  quite  com- 
fortable. We  trotted  on  for  some  hours  more,  the  snow  getting 
deeper,  and  the  rain  having  changed  to  snow,  and  at  last 
stopped  to  eat  just  at  the  foot  of  a  tremendous  precipice, 
which  we  had  to  ascend. 

After  a  little  rest,  and  good  lunch,  during  which  we  were 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  35 

quite  cold,  for  we  were  on  the  snow,  and  tho'  we  had  india 
rubber  on,  we  were  very  wet,  and  except  a  very  thin  under 
jacket,  and  one  outside  my  vest,  of  knit  woolen,  such  as  the 
peasants  wear,  I  was  dressed  entirely  in  linen,  we  started  again 
with  our  ropes  longer  than  before,  and  in  a  few  minutes  came 
to  very  steep  ground.  Just  as  we  began  it,  I  fell  into  a  sort  of 
a  crevice  just  below  a  rock  on  which  the  guide  was,  and  as  I 
had  lost  all  footing,  he  pulled  me  up,  as  I  held  on  with  my 
hands.  The  others  came  after  in  somewhat  the  same  way. 
Then  we  had  a  ladder  to  climb  at  as  steep  angle  as  any  I  ever 
tried.  After  that  more  snow,  and  then  we  came  to  a  great 
rock  not  far  from  perpendicular;  but  there  is  a  little  ledge  on 
which  we  stood,  until  the  guide  scrambled  across  it  the  length 
of  his  rope,  and  then  he  pulled  us  up  again  one  by  one.  My 
companions  were  more  warmly  dressed  than  myself,  as  they 
were  in  woolen,  and  they  had  also  gloves,  which  I,  not  expect- 
ing such  cold,  had  not  brought;  and  as  we  had  been  obliged  to 
climb  up  on  our  hands  and  feet  and  knees,  as  we  could,  my 
hands  were  intensely  cold,  and  numb,  giving  me  a  great  deal 
of  pain,  and  therefore  I  began  to  be  faint  just  in  the  worst 
possible  place.  However  I  had  a  pull  at  the  brandy-flask,  which 
set  me  right,  and  then  we  started  again.  After  a  long  pull,  dur- 
ing which  we  had  to  take  great  care  not  to  spoil  the  steps  of 
the  guide,  as  the  others  had  to  follow  in  them,  we  at  last 
reached  the  top,  having  spent  an  hour  about  it.  It  is  four  hun- 
dred feet  high,  and  is  almost  perpendicular,  for  what  Mr.  E. 
said  is  perfectly  true,  that  is,  his  hat-brim  often  touched  the 
snow,  when  he  was  upright.  It  is  wonderful  what  these  guides 
can  do.  The  fellow  in  front  of  me,  besides  carrying  a  pretty 
good  weight,  helped  us  all  by  pulling,  and  also  either  made 
steps  in  the  snow,  or  clearing  that  away,  cut  them  with  his 
hatchet  in  the  ice. 

He  and  the  other  guide  told  us,  when  we  were  once  up,  that 
the  new  snow,  which  had  fallen  very  lately,  it  was  evident,  had 
made  the  ascent  three  times  as  hard  as  usual. 


36  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

We  were  now  ten  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  and  some  of 
the  most  remarkable  and  glorious  views  I  ever  saw  were  be- 
fore us.  The  snow  would  cease  for  a  little  while,  and  the  mist 
roll  up  a  little :  then  it  was  that  we  saw  the  monstrous  moun- 
tains we  were  near,  the  Finsteraarhorn,  the  Schreckhorn,  the 
Wetterhorn,  and  many  others  towering  up,  and  the  Jungfrau, 
on  which  very  few  people  have  been,  and  after  the  ascent  of 
which  Prof.  Agassiz  went  to  bed  for  three  days;  or  at  least  so 
it  is  said. 

A  striking  instance  of  the  boy's  power  of  concentration  and 
of  his  maturity  of  judgment  is  given  in  this  letter  from  the 
Grimsel  Hospice  on  August  5  —  in  the  very  midst  of  his  excit- 
ing Alpine  experiences :  — 

My  dear  Father,  — 

I  have  something  to  say  to  you  on  a  subject  which  was  not 
discussed,  or  much  considered,  before  I  left  home:  what  I  am 
to  do,  after  it  is  too  late  to  travel  in  the  north,  and  where  I 
am  to  stay?  ...  I  have  been  making  enquiries  about  the 
German  Universities  on  all  sides,  and  of  every  one  I  have  met, 
who  knows  about  them,  and  one  of  my  present  companions 
has  been  for  the  last  six  months  at  Heidelberg.  I  have  asked 
Mrs.  Follen  and  her  son  about  it,  and  Mr.  Dana,  who  has 
been  four  years  at  Heidelberg  more  or  less,  and  taking  out 
his  absences  and  vacations,  two  and  a  half  years  all  the  time. 

Charles  Follen  has  been  considerably  on  the  Continent, 
and  a  great  deal  at  the  University  in  London,  where  he  will 
graduate  next  year.  He  stayed  in  Dresden  with  a  Professor 
Wigard,  —  pronounced  Vigard,  —  a  very  accomplished  gentle- 
man, who  has  a  family,  and  takes  young  men  into  his  family, 
but  does  not  teach  them,  and  Charles  liked  him  very  much 
indeed.  A  young  friend,  I  think  a  classmate  of  his,  a  Mr.  Gibbs 
—  he  is  of  the  Newport  family,  Alfred  Seymour  Gibbs  his 
name  is,  I  think,  —  stayed  a  year  with  this  gentleman,  study- 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  37 

ing  in  the  city  somewhere  all  the  time,  and  was  also  very  much 
pleased.  Charles  F.  advised  me  to  go  to  Paris  or  London,  if  I 
sought  the  best  lectures,  by  which  all  the  instruction  is  given 
at  German,  and  I  think,  French  Universities;  but  as  I  told 
him,  I  did  not  wish  to  go  and  stay  alone  in  those  great  cities, 
nor  in  Berlin,  where  there  is  too  a  University,  and  the  best 
lectures  in  Germany;  he  said  he  thought  Gottingen  the  next 
best  place.  But  as  I  did  not  know  the  language,  both  he  and 
his  mother  strongly  recommended  this  Professor  Wigard,  for 
they  told  me,  what  in  fact  everyone  has,  that  the  easiest  and 
quickest  way  to  learn  a  language,  is  to  live  in  a  family  where 
only  that  language  is  spoken.  If  I  go  there,  the  Professor  can 
put  me  in  the  way  of  seeing  and  hearing  what  would  be  of 
much  use  to  me,  besides  what  I  should  hear  at  his  table,  for  he 
sees  the  best  society  in  Dresden.  I  do  not  mean  the  peers,  etc., 
but  really  the  best  society. 

Then  too,  he  will  tell  me  of  the  best  teachers  for  everything 
that  I  may  wish  to  study;  and  Dresden,  too,  is  a  very  fine 
place  to  live  in,  for  there  are  many  works  of  art  here;  and  in- 
deed I  believe  the  Dresden  gallery  is  the  finest  out  of  Italy  in 
the  world,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  music,  etc.  Dresden  is 
called  the  German  Florence.  Tho'  there  may  seem  to  be  no 
positive  gain  in  all  the  fine  arts,  they  certainly  can  do  no  harm, 
and  they  may  be  of  great  use;  and  of  music,  tho'  a  person 
understanding  and  knowing  something  of  it  is  not  perhaps  any 
more  educated  for  practical  purposes  than  one  without  it,  yet 
it  is  certainly  best  to  cultivate  yourself  in  what  you  have  a 
talent  for,  and  it  is  not  vanity  in  me  to  say  that  I  have  some, 
tho'  it  may  be  in  a  slight  degree,  for  music.  All  these  things 
are  to  be  considered,  and  taken  for  what  they  are  worth. 

When  I  was  at  Heidelberg,  as  I  before  said,  I  asked  Mr. 
Dana's  opinion  about  a  University  life,  and  also  told  him 
about  my  opportunity  at  Dresden,  and  my  former  circum- 
stances, in  fact  just  where  I  was,  and  all  about  it.  Tho'  he 
thinks  very  highly  of  the  University  there,  and  of  all  the  others, 


38  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

yet  he  told  me  that  my  best  chance,  by  all  odds,  was  at  Dres- 
den, for  he  said  it  was  a  rare  chance  to  go  into  a  family  with 
whom  I  could  associate,  instead  of  a  mere  boarding-house,  and 
it  would  take  me  some  time  to  learn  German  at  any  rate.  He 
said  if  I  came  to  Heidelberg  my  best  chance  to  learn  to  speak 
was  to  go  into  one  of  the  fighting  corps,  who  do  nothing  but 
practise,  fight,  and  drink  beer,  and  of  them  I  should  only  learn 
enough  to  talk  about  their  occupations.  The  students,  he 
says,  are  divided  into  three  classes,  the  reading  men,  who 
associate  very  little,  the  fighting  men,  with  whom  of  course 
I  do  not  wish  to  mix,  and  the  idle  men,  who  are  the  worst  of 
the  lot,  and  of  course  would  make  very  poor  associates.  Then, 
too,  I  am  sure  I  am  rather  young  for  a  University,  for  the 
American  and  English  students  that  come  to  them  are  almost 
always  graduates  of  some  University  at  home,  and  the  Ger- 
man students  have  to  pass  a  severe  examination  to  graduate 
at  the  Gymnasia,  which  are  equivalent  to  our  Universities,  be- 
fore they  can  enter  their  Universities.  Of  course  the  lectures 
are  prepared  for  them,  and  tho'  I  might  very  likely  profit  by 
some  of  them,  yet  I  should  be  much  more  fit  to  do  so  when  I 
had  graduated  at  Cambridge.  For  instance,  Mr.  Dana,  who 
has  practised  as  a  lawyer  in  Boston,  has  been  here,  studying 
law,  and  Mr.  Child,  and  Lane,  and  Mr.  Gould,  the  son  of 
Benjamin  Gould,  and  who  is,  you  know,  a  great  mathemati- 
cian, came  here  after  Cambridge;  the  two  former  are  now  Pro- 
fessors, and  were  called  home  for  that  purpose  from  here. 

I  have  endeavored  as  fairly  as  possible  to  represent  the 
comparative  advantages  of  a  University  and  Dresden,  and 
tho'  it  is  apparent  that  I  incline  to  Dresden,  it  is  quite  natural 
with  the  advice  I  have  had,  and  all  of  which  I  have  not  men- 
tioned; but  everybody  thinks  I  had  better  go  to  Dresden- 
Moreover,  it  is  very  natural  that  I,  so  young,  and  unaccus- 
tomed to  be  in  the  world  much,  should  prefer  a  family,  which 
would  be  a  sort  of  home  to  me,  certainly  more  so  than  a  board- 
ing-house near  a  University.  .  .  . 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  39 

The  next  question,  or  rather  the  first  one,  is,  whether  it  is 
worth  while  for  me  to  stay  in  Europe  this  winter.  In  the  first 
place,  it  seems  to  me  that  my  best  plan  is  to  do  as  Stephen 
[Perkins]  has  decided  to  do  himself,  that  is,  join  this  year's 
class  at  the  beginning  of  the  Sophomore  year.  If  1  came  home 
this  fall,  it  would  be  too  late,  I  am  afraid,  to  join  my  own  class. 

Moreover,  tho'  my  eyes  are  improving,  they  will  not  be 
strong  enough,  I  think,  to  do  the  work  necessary  at  Cambridge 
to  satisfy  myself,  for  I  am  not  going  there  again  until  I  can  do 
what  there  is  to  be  done,  properly.  I  have  had  quite  enough 
of  half  learning  my  lessons. 

I  think  it  is  certain,  if  I  can  study  but  little  this  winter,  say 
only  fcur  or  five  hours  without  injuring  myself,  —  for  I  have 
done  thai  too  often  to  try  it  again,  —  that  I  can  learn  more 
here  than  at  home;  and  even  if  I  can  study  more,  I  cannot  of 
course  tell  what  effect  a  month  or  two  of  traveling,  as  I  now 
am,  may  produce. 

I  shall  profit  more  here  than  there,  for  I  can  get  a  language, 
the  finest  —  or  certainly,  next  to  the  English,  the  finest  — 
there  is,  pretty  well  established  in  my  head,  besides  what  else 
I  may  pick  up:  and  at  home,  tho'  I  may  study  a  language,  it 
cannot  be  to  so  great  advantage  as  here,  and  there  is  hardly 
anything  would  be  of  more  benefit  to  me,  particularly  as  I 
should  study  French  in  Soph.,  and  German  in  the  Junior  year. 
I  think  that  perhaps  I  should  like  to  learn  French  better  than 
German,  as  it  is  more  common  and  easier,  but  it  is  not  nearly 
so  fine  a  language. 

To  go  and  live  in  Paris  would  be  the  best  way  of  mastering 
French,  but  I  probably  should  not  get  into  as  fine  a  situation, 
or  as  advantageous  a  one,  as  I  said  before.  I  do  not  wish  to 
go  there  to  stay  for  a  long  time  at  present.  It  is  the  most 
vicious,  yet  the  most  tempting  and  dangerous  place  on  earth, 
and  I  prefer  not  to  be  exposed,  when  too  young,  to  it.  This 
may  seem  as  if  I  had  got  into  bad  habits,  but  such  is  not  in 
the  least  the  case,  only  I  do  not  think  anybody  is  too  strong 


40  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

in  good  principles,  nor  that  it  is  good,  especially  for  young 
persons,  to  try  themselves  in  order  to  get  seasoned.  I  am  sure 
we  have  had  examples  enough  of  that  doctrine  near  us,  without 
trying  it. 

I  have  precisely  the  same  objection  to  London  and  Berlin. 
There  is  another  thing  I  could  do  at  home,  that  is,  look  over 
the  Freshman  studies;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  hardly 
worth  while,  for  they  may  be  learned  in  a  much  shorter  time 
than  they  are  at  Cambridge,  for  it  is  the  recitations  there  that 
take  up  eyes  and  time.  I  should  have  time  enough  for  those, 
when  I  come  home.  As  far  as  my  own  wishes  go,  if  I  should 
get  up  to-morrow  with  strong  eyes,  I  would  start  for  America 
immediately.  Charming  as  traveling  is,  particularly  here  in 
Switzerland,  it  is  not  so  much,  nor  half  so  much  so,  as  home  is. 
If  I  thought  that  I  could  gain  as  much  by  coming  home  this 
winter,  as  by  staying  here,  I  would  not  hesitate  a  minute  by 
it,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  I  can  make  up  my  mind  to  stay, 
even  if  you  say  yes.  But  if  you  will  merely  leave  it  to  me,  to  de- 
cide according  to  the  circumstances  and  the  state  of  my  eyes, 
I  will  endeavor  to  use  my  judgment,  unbiased  by  my  feelings, 
or  anything  else.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  think  a  moment  of 
what  I  feel,  for  that  is  not  of  real  importance,  but  merely  of 
the  case  as  it  stands. 

One  thing  more.  As  regards  the  cost  of  the  matter,  C.  F. 
told  me  it  would  be  about  three  quarters  as  much  as  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  about  the  same  as  at  a  German  University,  which, 
Mr.  Dana  also  told  me,  is  about  three  quarters  of  an  American 
University's  expenses.  Charles  F.  must  have  lived  pretty 
cheaply  at  Cambridge,  and  as  he  has  tried  Professor  Wigard's, 
he  knows  about  that  also.  .  .  . 

This  letter,  we  may  be  sure,  caused  some  excitement  in 
Bedford  Place.  No  answer  could  be  expected  for  nearly  two 
months,  and  Henry  and  his  clerical  companion  marched  on 
by  Interlaken  and  Thun  to  Berne,  thence  to  Freiburg  (in 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  41 

Switzerland)  and  Vevey.  Here  the  boy  saw  M.  Thiers:  a 
"short  bright-looking  little  man,  with  a  queer,  voice."  At 
Geneva  he  discovered  "a  good  deal  of  female  beauty"  —  to 
say  nothing  of  fine  sunsets  on  Mont  Blanc.  He  made  the  pil- 
grimage to  Ferney  and  saw  Voltaire's  chateau,  and  the  church 
"Deo  erexit  Voltaire."  But  he  visited  Calvin's  old  church 
likewise,  and  museums  and  libraries  and  the  prison  of  Chillon. 
He  tramped  from  Martigny  over  the  Tete  Noire  to  Cha- 
mounix,  and  thought  "the  24  miles  equal  to  30  on  a  road." 
Many  walkers  in  Switzerland  will  quite  agree  with  him.  For 
a  week  or  more  Higginson  and  the  Reverend  Mr.  Eliot  and 
the  young  Englishman  Haldeman  -  -  who  was  "not  very 
pleasant  but  was  bright"  —  had  fine  climbing  over  the  high 
passes  on  the  Italian  border,  and  down  into  Italy. 

Sept.  3.  Over  the  Gemmi  to  Kandersteg.  A  very  steep, 
hard  walk.  Very  wonderful.  Parted  with  Haldeman  on  top 
of  the  Gemmi  —  a  "cold  farewell."  .  .  . 

Milan,  Sept.  9.  Went  to  the  Opera.  Dirty  and  poor  lights, 
but  good  orchestra  and  singing  and  pretty  dancing. 

Thence  by  Como,  Bellagio,  and  Bormio,  Higginson  tramped 
into  the  Tyrol  alone,  for  Mr.  Eliot  was  called  away  for  a  time. 
A  letter  from  Bormio,  September  16,  gives  some  vivid  detail. 

.  .  .  Clothes  wear  out  very  fast  here,  and  my  shoes  have 
to  be  constantly  repaired.  I  have  just  been  obliged  to  give  up 
an  old  pair  of  pantaloons  after  mending  and  darning  them 
till  I  was  tired.  My  socks  too  are  almost  gone,  altho'  this 
morning  I  have  darned  four  holes  in  them ;  but  their  substance 
has  departed  forever,  and  is  resting  on  the  Swiss  mountains, 
and  I  could  find  no  suitable  ones  at  all  in  Milan.  .  .  . 

Mr.  E.  has  a  sincere  wish  to  economize,  and  does  so  to  a 
certain  extent;  but  everything  with  him  depends  on  his  health, 
for  if  he  feels  badly,  he  loses  his  spirits,  and  then  does  not 


42  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

enjoy  walking,  and  cannot  bear  so  much  as  if  he  were 
happy.   .  .  . 

Besides  this,  it  is  very  hard  sometimes  for  me  to  keep  pleas- 
ant when  I  do  not  feel  so,  or  often  he  is  low-spirited  from  ill- 
ness or  something  else,  and  does  not  feel  like  talking,  and  I 
sometimes  am  troubled  with  my  eyes  or  want  of  success  in 
curing  them.  But  it  would  not  do  at  all  to  let  my  light  go  out, 
for  try  as  hard  as  he  can,  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  be  cheerful, 
and  we  should  never  get  along  with  no  light. 

Many  times,  too,  there  are  little  things  to  be  done,  for  the 
good  of  both,  which  fall  upon  me,  being  younger;  and  I  found 
occasionally  in  Switzerland  that  my  physical  strength  was 
rather  a  bore,  for  it  often  happened  that  I  carried  more  or  did 
things,  because  I  was  stronger,  tho'  both  of  my  companions 
were  under  thirty,  and  if  they  had  thought,  they  would  have 
known  that  in  all  probability  their  strength  was  more  lasting 
than  mine;  for  after  all,  I  am  but  a  boy.  However,  I  am  none 
the  worse  for  it  all,  and  I  would  not  change  with  either  of 
them.  I  have  liked  Mr.  E.  as  a  companion  very  much,  for  he 
is  an  excellent  man  of  good  principles,  open,  just,  and  generous, 
and  with  a  great  deal  of  taste,  and  generally  well  informed- 
If  I  were  coming  again,  I  would  get  a  younger  companion,  one 
whom  I  could  sympathize  more  with,  and  whom  I  should 
value  as  a  friend  all  my  life.  .  .   . 

You  ask  about  the  languages.  In  Switzerland  our  third 
companion  managed  for  us  part  of  the  way,  as  he  spoke  Ger- 
man very  well,  and  nearly  half  the  time  we  were  in  German 
Switzerland;  and  the  rest  of  the  way  Mr.  E.,  who  picked  up 
a  little  French  in  Paris, did  the  talking;  before  that  in  Germany 
I  learned  a  few  words,  and  when  I  could  not  speak,  I  laughed, 
to  keep  the  people  in  good  humour,  and  managed  as  best  I 
could.  I  paid,  when  I  had  to  do  so;  held  on  to  my  own,  and 
got  something  to  eat.   .  .  . 

This  mountain  scenery  is  very  fine,  but  I  do  wish  to  see 
something  more  beautiful  and  soft  and  less  grand,  something 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  43 

that  will  make  one  smile  and  feel  happy  and  contented  to 
live  among  it,  rather  than  what  is  glorious,  but  still  pleases, 
tho'  in  a  different  and  to  me  less  agreeable  way.  The  one 
strikes  the  right  string  within  me,  the  other  does  not.  .  .  . 

I  think  the  want  of  softness  and  gentleness  in  the  scenery  is 
the  chief  defect  in  Switzerland.  .  .  . 

At  Munich,  as  at  Milan,  his  diary  contains  increasingly 
careful  notes  upon  painting  and  sculpture;  but  it  is  clearly 
music  that  charms  him  beyond  the  other  arts.  All  this  is  in 
his  mind  as  he  writes  to  his  father  from  Munich,  on  September 
29,  about  plans  for  the  winter. 

.  .  .  You  may  take  the  fine  arts  and  society  for  what  they 
are  worth,  and  tho'  neither  a  knowledge  of  music,  painting  or 
anything  of  the  kind  will  probably  be  of  any  practical  use  to 
me,  yet  everyone  will  admit  that  they  are  worth  something. 
Before  I  had  seen  paintings,  fine  ones  I  mean,  sculpture,  etc., 
I  could  not  tell  whether  I  really  cared  for  them  or  not;  but 
since  I  have  seen  them,  I  have  found  that  I  really  have  a  love 
of  them,  tho'  there  is  nothing  like  music  to  me.  Now  if  I 
should  stay  in  Dresden,  and  have  sufficient  eyes,  I  should  like 
very  much  to  study  music.  .  .  . 

In  the  first  place,  I  think  it  will  be  my  best  plan  to  join  the 
present  Freshman  class  at  the  beginning  of  their  Sophomore 
year,  and  if  I  were  to  come  home  now,  I  do  not  think  it  would 
be  possible  for  me  (in  fact  I  am  almost  sure  it  would  not)  to 
join  the  class  this  year,  and  certainly  the  first  of  it.  I  do  not 
see  that  there  is  anything  better  for  me  to  do  than  to  stay  here, 
and  learn  what  I  can  by  my  ears,  and  a  very  moderate  use 
of  my  eyes,  if  they  are  well  enough. 

I  can  stay  till  late  in  the  spring,  and  return  about  the  first 
of  June.  That  would  be  soon  enough  to  just  be  ready  for  the 
College  course  again  after  a  little  preparation.  But  if  you  do 
not  think  this  best,  why  just  tell  me  so,  and  I  shall  be  much 


44  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

better  pleased  to  return  than  stay;  for  much  as  I  enjoy  every- 
thing here,  and  I  am  in  the  middle  of  it  now  here  in  Munich, 
I  should  be  delighted  to  see  home  and  home-faces  once  more. 
Then  too  the  disappointment  of  not  improving  faster,  and  the 
constant  remembrance,  as  I  see  one  thing  after  another,  and 
find  I  am  ignorant  of  the  history  connected  with  it,  and  of 
thousands  of  other  things,  that  I  cannot  remedy  now,  and  I 
don't  know  when  I  can,  the  constant  remembrance  that  I  am 
cut  off  from  all  reading,  all  literary  pursuits,  is  very,  very  gall- 
ing. Then  this  idea  ever  recurs  and  appears  to  me:  "You  need 
not  trouble  yourself,  for  you  are  ignorant,  and  there  is  little 
chance  of  your  remedying  the  trouble,  at  least  for  a  long 
time."   But  never  mind.  .  .  . 

A  letter  to  his  brother  George,  written  on  the  following  day, 
takes  up  again  this  problem  of  self-education. 

...  I  went  to  the  opera  last  night  for  the  first  time,  as 
there  had  been  none  since  my  arrival  here.  It  was  "Martha," 
by  Flotow,  a  comic  opera,  and  the  music  is  beautiful;  there  is 
very  little  noise,  in  fact  none,  but  in  two  or  three  choruses, 
reminding  one  of  Bellini's  music,  tho'  in  a  comic  opera  there  is 
not  any  play  for  the  same  exquisite  and  pathetic  sweetness 
that  Bellini  infuses  thro'  his  works.  I  do  not  know  that  Flo- 
tow  has  the  power  of  that,  or  whether  he  has  composed,  or 
can  do  so,  a  serious  opera,  that  is,  one  where  death  appears,  or 
where  there  is  any  approach  to  it.  But  at  any  rate  "  Martha" 
is  very  beautiful.  There  is  one  thing  I  was  surprised  at,  that 
is,  the  "Last  Rose  of  Summer"  is  a  reigning  air,  and  is  sung  in 
allusion  to  a  bunch  of  flowers,  mostly  roses,  I  thought.  I  do 
not  think  Flotow  would  have  taken  that  air  from  someone 
else,  and  introduced  it  so  constantly,  yet  I  had  thought  it  was 
originally  English  or  Irish.  It  is  a  most  beautiful  thing,  and 
I  liked  it  more  than  ever  last  night,  sung  as  it  was  beautifully, 
and  repeated  again  and  again.  .  .  . 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  45 

You  know,  my  dear  fellow,  that  your  stock  of  knowledge 
is  not  too  great,  and  I  advise  you  sincerely  to  do  your  best 
to  make  it  as  long  as  possible,  for  the  more  you  know,  the 
more  you  are  respected,  and  the  more  power  you  have  both 
to  help  yourself  and  others.  You  understand,  I  know,  and 
will  not  feel  offended.  Therefore  do  all  you  can  now,  for  the 
time  may  come,  when  you  will  have  little  or  no  time  for  such 
things. 

If  you  are  in  a  store,  or  take  up  a  profession  or  anything 
else,  very  likely  you  will  be  entirely  occupied,  and  there  will 
be  no  opportunity  for  anything  else.  Remember  that  you  are 
nineteen  years  old,  and  that  at  that  age  a  person  is  expected 
to  know  a  good  deal,  and  it  is  far,  far  better  to  be  beyond  what 
is  looked  for  than  behind. 

So  make  up  your  deficiencies  as  soon  as  you  can.  You,  very 
likely,  will  come  abroad  by  and  by,  and  before  you  do,  it  is 
much  better  to  know  the  history  of  Europe,  of  each  country 
and  city,  to  have  some  knowledge  of  the  important  men, 
generals,  kings,  emperors,  artists,  poets,  statesmen,  etc., 
whose  portraits  and  statues  you  will  constantly  see,  and  whose 
deeds  are  represented  in  various  ways.  I  have  felt  the  want 
of  this  knowledge  very  much,  and  you  had  better  prepare 
yourself.  .  .  . 

The  Diary  continues  to  give  notes  on  operas:  — 

Munich,  Oct.  5.  Went  to  hear  "  Nabucodonosor  "  by  Verdi. 
Less  noisy  than  Verdi's  usually  are,  and  some  very  beautiful. 
Finely  performed,  particularly  the  King,  by  Kindermann. 

Oct.  8.  Went  to  hear  the  opera  of  "Figaro's  Wedding." 
Beautiful  music,  tho'  very  slightly  like  "Don  Giovanni." 
Recitative  in  words  without  music.  Kindermann  (Figaro) 
very,  very  good. 

Sunday,  Oct.  10.    Heard  some  fine  music  at  St.  Michael's. 

Oct.  13.    Yesterday  I  went  to  the  opera.    "Jessonda,"  by 


46  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Spohr.  Quiet  music  and  pleasant,  but  wanting  life  and  deci- 
sion, character;  somewhat  like  Meyerbeer's,  but  not  nearly  so 
much  talent.    Kindermann  is  a  genius. 

Sunday,  Oct.  17.  Went  to  hear  "Norma,"  with  Signorina 
Falconi  as  Norma!  A  very  beautiful  opera  and  well  per- 
formed. More  noisy  than  Bellini's  music  generally;  not  so 
fine  as  "Puritani,"  but  still  very  beautiful.  Signorina  Falconi 
has  a  very  fine,  powerful  voice,  but  shakes  it  too  much.  A 
very  bad  habit  and  a  common  modern  one!  She  is  very  ugly, 
but  a  very  fine  singer,  and  some  of  the  airs  in  "Norma"  very 
beautiful. 

Oct.  19.  Heard  "Nebuchadnezzar"  again  in  the  evening. 
Liked  it  better  than  before,  but  perceived  Verdi's  faults  more. 
He  tries  the  voice  too  much,  is  too  noisy,  is  very  fine  in 
choruses,  but  is  not  a  very  pleasing  composer. 

Oct.  21.  Met  a  young  English  architect  at  the  restaurant. 
Went  to  the  opera  with  him,  and  heard  Beethoven's  "  Fidelio." 
Beautiful,  exquisite  opera,  so  full  of  feeling,  so  quiet,  so  soft, 
so  expressive:  and  Fidelio's  part  is  exquisite.  Having  only 
heard  it  once,  I  cannot  tell  how  it  would  compare  with  others, 
but  it  is  certainly  next  "Don  Giovanni"  and  "Puritani."  The 
music  is  mostly  from  stringed  instruments,  and  hardly  any 
drum.  Recitative  is  mostly  spoken.  Signorina  Falconi  sang 
her  part  very  well,  as  did  they  all.  Kindermann  as  usual, 
and  a  tenor,  Hartinger,  whom  I  heard  in  "Jessonda"  and 
"Norma,"  has  a  fine  voice  and  sings  very  well  indeed.  A  most 
beautiful  opera,  so  calm,  and  yet  so  full  of  feeling.  I  must 
hear  it  again. 

Sunday,  Oct.  24.  Went  to  the  English  service ;  do  not  like  it. 
Heard  "Don  Giovanni."  Same  as  usual,  tho'  better.  A  very 
good  Leporello  and  fine  Don  G.  Fine  Donna  Anna,  with  a 
glorious  voice. 

Oct.  28.  Draw  10  pounds.  See  more  of  the  Glyptothek,  pay 
and  pack.  Hear  a  little  farcical  opera,  "  The  Voice  of  Nature," 
by  Lortzing.   Some  pretty  music  tho'  nothing  more. 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  47 

On  the  next  day  he  left  Munich,  alone,  for  Augsburg,  Nu- 
remberg, and  Leipzig.  Here  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  hear 
the  famous  Gewandhaus  orchestra  on  a  gala  day. 

Nov.  4.  Saw  Mr.  C.  C.  Perkins  and  his  brother  Mr.  Doane. 
Went  to  a  very  fine  concert,  Mendelssohn's  death-day,  I 
believe,  and  heard  a  symphony  of  Mozart,  Fantasia  for  piano, 
chorus  and  orchestra  of  Beethoven,  and  Mendelssohn's  "  Ath- 
alie,"  a  tragedy  of  Racine;  everything  very  fine  and  the  music 
very,  very  beautiful.  "Athalie"  exquisite  thing,  the  finest 
concert  I  think  I  ever  heard.  Mr.  P.  told  me  these  concerts 
were  the  finest  to  be  heard  in  Germany.  Very  full  of  first- 
class  people,  ranged  in  the  shape  of  a  horse-shoe. 

Two  days  later  he  arrived  in  Dresden,  which  was  to  be  his 
home  for  the  winter.  In  the  fragmentary  Reminiscences,  dic- 
tated in  191 8,  sixty-six  years  afterward,  Henry  Higginson 
thus  pictures  his  surroundings:  — 

I  then  went  to  Dresden,  and  looked  up  Professor  Wigard, 
with  whom  Charles  Follen  had  lived  and  to  whom  Charles 
Follen  had  given  me  a  letter.  This  professor,  with  his  wife  and 
two  little  daughters,  lived  in  a  good  house  just  outside  the 
wall  of  Dresden.  With  him  were  four  or  five  students  boarding, 
and  I  proposed  to  board  there  too.  He  gave  me  an  excellent 
room,  of  course  without  any  fireplace,  and  I  lived  with  them, 
studied  German,  went  to  the  theatre  and  the  opera,  which  was 
very  good  indeed,  studied  my  lessons  hard,  saw  considerable  of 
society,  and  enjoyed  myself.  There  were  various  small  socie- 
ties of  the  Germans  where  they  would  have  little  concerts  or 
little  plays,  and  chiefly  dances,  and  to  those  I  went  and  tried 
to  dance.  There  were  also  some  balls  of  a  higher  class  of  people 
belonging  to  the  Court  circles,  although  not  Court  balls,  and 
to  those  I  also  —  a  stranger  —  could  go ;  but  it  was  clear 
enough  that  I   was  not  welcome,  for  I   knew  nobody  and 


48  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

nobody  knew  me,  and  I  was  a  green,  uncombed,  unlicked  cub. 
Saxony  —  a  Protestant  land  —  had  a  Catholic  king  and  a 
church  where  there  was  splendid  music,  to  which  I  also  used 
to  go  when  it  was  not  too  cold. 

Dresden  was  a  very  pretty  city  lying  on  both  sides  of  the 
Elbe,  across  which  a  fine  bridge  was  built.  The  opera  house, 
and  especially  the  picture  gallery,  were  of  the  finest  kind,  and 
the  opera  was  at  that  time  celebrated.  There  were  also  excel- 
lent symphony  concerts  in  the  gardens,  and  there  were  con- 
certs of  a  lower  grade  in  the  various  coffee-houses.  I  used 
constantly  to  go  to  them,  drinking  a  little  coffee  or  eating  ice- 
cream and  hearing  the  music.  Everything  was  very  cheap 
indeed  —  clothes,  entertainments,  and  also  my  board,  a  good 
room,  such  fare  as  we  had,  all  cost  thirty  thalers  a  month,  a 
thaler  being  seventy-five  cents. 

Richard  Wagner  had  been  conductor  at  the  Dresden  Opera 
until  the  Revolution  of  1848,  when  he  had  run  away;  and  as 
this  was  in  1853,  his  work  and  his  influence  remained;  and  it 
was  there  that  I  first  heard  the  Wagner  opera  "Tannhauser." 

The  professor  with  whom  I  lived  had  been  a  government 
officer,  had  been  in  the  Frankfort  Parliament  and  had  shown 
himself  to  be  a  "Red,"  so  he  lost  his  appointment.  Therefore, 
at  about  forty,  he  studied  medicine  and  became  an  excellent 
physician.  His  wife,  a  simple  housekeeper,  a  good  woman, 
with  one  maid,  looked  after  the  food  for  her  husband,  the  two 
little  girls,  and  us  six  young  fellows.  The  food  was  of  the 
simplest.  Bread  soup  was  very  common  —  bread,  a  trifle  of 
lard  and  hot  w^ater;  and  it  was  very  thin.  Then  we  had  all 
kinds  of  sausages,  and  in  the  evening  at  supper  we  used  to  do 
very  well.  My  digestion  was  that  of  a  horse,  and  I  did  not 
care  what  I  ate,  but  I  did  not  like  to  see  the  lady  of  the  house 
serve  the  food,  cut  the  bread  and  the  sausages,  trim  the  oil- 
lamps,  wipe  her  fingers  on  her  hair,  and  then  cut  the  bread 
again.  Still,  a  boy's  stomach  is  strong.  Of  course  there  were 
no  habits  of  washing,  and  when  I  asked  for  a  bathtub  I  had  to 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  49 

buy  one.  I  sat  on  the  floor  and  was  measured,  and  they 
brought  me  a  nice  wooden  tub,  which  was  put  under  my  bed. 
Presently  I  found  that  it  had  disappeared,  and  learned  that 
the  family  washing  was  done  in  the  bathtub  during  the  day 
and  I  was  allowed  to  have  it  at  night. 

The  students  all  lived  in  one  room,  and  I  remember  that 
they  changed  their  shirts  once  a  week.  They  would  begin  with 
them  white,  and  they  would  be  dark  brown  before  the  week 
was  over;  but  they  were  pretty  good  fellows.  It  was  there 
that  I  first  saw  the  disposition  of  the  younger  German  men.  I 
lived  there  five  months,  and  for  some  reason  or  other  I  was  not 
on  speaking  terms  with  one  or  another  of  the  students.  One 
man  would  take  up  a  huff  and  would  not  speak  to  me  or  look 
at  me  for  a  week  or  ten  days,  and  then  another,  and  then 
another.  I  never  knew  what  the  matter  was,  and  very  soon 
gave  up  caring. 

It  was  a  peaceful,  happy  life.  Mr.  Lothrop  Motley  was  there 
studying  to  write  his  "History  of  the  Netherlands."  I  had  a 
letter  to  him,  and  he  and  his  wife  were  very  kind  to  me,  and 
invited  me  to  dine  there  once  a  week,  which  I  did.1  His  three 
daughters  were  young,  the  eldest  being  twelve  years  old,  and 
they  were  very  nice  children. 

I  remember  that  at  one  of  the  little  societies  where  we  used 
to  go  pretty  often  and  where  I  learned  to  dance,  a  little  fes- 
tival came,  and  a  little  ballet  was  arranged.  A  certain  costume 
was  necessary,  and  more  particularly  a  certain  kind  of  shoe. 
I  was  selected  to  lead  the  ballet,  and  had  a  nice  partner.  But 
if  I  was  considered  the  best  dancer,  think  what  the  others 
must  have  been. 

The  boy's  letters  home  during  that  fall  and  winter  were 
uniformly  cheerful,  though  his  eyes  were  still  far  from  strong. 
He  had  youth,  health,  and  humor;  and  he  was  justifying  his 

1  "He  is  a  very  honest,  ingenuous,  intelligent  lad,"  wrote  Motley,  on  December 
23.  1852. 
5 


50  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

father's  full  confidence  in  his  ability  to  decide  all  the  larger 
matters  for  himself.  His  letter  of  credit  with  the  Baring 
Brothers  of  London  for  £400  was  ample  for  his  needs. 

"  I  have  entire  confidence  in  your  prudence  and  good  judg- 
ment with  regard  to  outgoes,"  wrote  his  father,  who  did  not 
wish  to  know  the  details  of  Henry's  expenditures,  and  was 
constantly  urging  him  not  to  economize  too  much.  ' '  Do  not 
pinch  yourself.  See  all  the  sights,  go  to  all  the  entertainments 
you  can,  and  enjoy  yourself  in  every  rational  mode.  I  have 
not  been  in  so  good  a  position  to  incur  the  expenditure  for 
many  years.  .  .  .  Get  all  the  amusement  you  can,  and  if  you 
have  time  for  it,  take  lessons  on  the  piano  or  for  the  voice.  I 
go  for  cultivating  the  tastes  which  are  commendable  —  so  far 
as  one  can  consistently  with  other  calls  —  to  any  extent.  You 
are  disposed  to  be  very  prudent  about  your  expenditures, 
which  is  an  excellent  habit,  but  I  wish  you  to  feel  free  to  give 
yourself  all  the  advantages  which  are  at  command,  knowing 
as  I  do  that  you  will  use  the  privilege  wisely." 

Upon  a  few  points,  however,  George  Higginson  was  most 
particular  in  his  admonitions.  One  of  them  concerned  Henry's 
clothes.  "  Do  let  me  know  that  you  have  a  wardrobe  becoming 
a  well-provided  and  well-dressed  Gentleman."  Henry's  reply 
to  this  was  succinct:  "To  dress  better  than  those  around  me 
except  in  the  matter  of  clean  underclothes  would  be  bad  taste." 

Another  matter  for  worriment  was  Henry's  epistolary  style. 
Though  the  father  wrote  more  than  once  "how  much  your 
blessed  mother  would  have  enjoyed  your  letters,"  he  neverthe- 
less found  his  boy  sadly  lacking  "in  the  mechanical  execu- 
tion" of  the  "beautiful  accomplishment"  of  letter- writing. 
"Avoid  repetitions  studiously,  by  having  at  command  a  stock 
of  synonyms  for  ready  use."  "Aim  at  simplicity  and  concise- 
ness." "Let  me  recommend  you  to  omit  some  of  the  'ands'  in 
arranging  sentences,  and  to  adopt  the  old  spelling,  using  two 
Vs  in  'traveller,'  for  instance,  instead  of  one,  as  Webster  lays 
down."   The  humorous  fact  was  that  his  father's  own  hand- 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  51 

writing  was  almost  undecipherable,  and  that  he  broke  the 
rules  of  Blair's  Rhetoric,  on  occasion,  as  recklessly  as  his  boy. 
Sometimes  he  seems  almost  aware  of  it!  "I  fear  that  my  let- 
ters will  try  your  eyes  somewhat."  "I  often  think  that  I  re- 
peat too  much  in  way  of  admonitions  and  in  expression  of 
earnest  wishes  for  behavior.  The  fact  is,  I  am  rather  fussy ." 
And  so  are  many  of  the  most  lovable  persons  in  the  world. 

What  the  son  preferred  in  a  letter,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
absolute  informality,  directness,  simple  "talking."  "  I  do  not 
want  to  hear  anything  remarkable,"  he  wrote  to  his  aunt, 
Mrs.  S.  T.  Morse,  in  August,  1852,  "but  write  just  as  you 
would  if  I  saw  you  only  yesterday  and  you  were  talking  to  me. 
Write  what  you  are  thinking  about,  what  is  going  on  inside 
rather  than  out.  .  .  .  Draw  a  picture  in  words,  of  the  family, 
of  everybody,  of  Father,  of  the  children,  of  all  of  you." 

In  letter  after  letter,  in  reply  to  his  father's  continued  sug- 
gestions, Henry  defends  his  own  theory  of  writing.  "When 
I  've  thought  over  what  I  wish  to  say,  it  is  not  so  well  said  as 
when  I  write  and  think  at  the  same  time,  though  the  mechan- 
ical part  of  the  premeditated  portion  is  better."  He  finds 
brother  George's  letters  "a  little  too  much  like  themes  .  .  . 
rather  too  much  style,  if  I  may  say  so.  You  all  write  what  you 
see  and  say  and  what  is  done;  no  more.  It  would  really  do 
the  elder  boys  and  Mary  good  to  write  out  what  is  going  on 
inside.  It  would  be  far  more  interesting  than  mere  narrative 
to  me,  and  they  would  learn  to  know  themselves  and  to  think 
more."  "  I  must  choose  my  subject  and  humor  for  each  corre- 
spondent." Four  years  later,  he  was  to  write  from  Paris:  "A 
letter  should  be  merely  a  little  talk  on  paper,  and  that  is  quite 
all." 

Here  are  extracts  from  two  or  three  of  his  own  letters  to  his 
father  from  Dresden,  telling  about  himself. 

Nov.  15,  1852. 

.  .  .  For  amusements  I  want  no  money  but  for  music,  and 
that  is  not  very  expensive  here :  even  that  I  would  not  indulge 


52  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

in  to  the  extent  I  have  and  shall,  did  I  not  try  to  learn  some- 
thing by  it,  did  I  not  consider  it  as  a  study  in  a  measure:  in- 
deed I  have  already  learned  something  and  would  know  more. 
My  desire  has  only  increased  very  much  since  I  've  been 
abroad,  and  I  shall  certainly  study  it  with  a  master,  if  I  have 
the  eyes,  and  if  not,  at  least  I  can  play  somewhat,  and  amuse 
my  otherwise  idle  hours.  I  've  already  hired  a  very  good 
piano  for  $2.50,  cheap  enough  when  compared  with  the  prices 
at  home,  and  not  dear  at  any  rate.  I  shall  practise  by  my- 
self till  I  can  understand  German  better,  and  then  try  a 
master. 

Tell  me,  or  rather  let  George  tell  me,  how  he  gets  on,  and 
what  his  difficulties  are;  also  tell  him  to  ask  Aunt  Hattie  what 
she  thinks  of  his  trying  what  I  always  did  and  do  now:  play- 
ing airs  that  I  remembered  from  the  concerts  and  operas,  and 
also  much  from  other  people's  playing,  and  setting  a  bass  for 
myself.  Also  playing  the  same  thing  in  different  keys,  etc., 
etc.  I  learned  much  I  think  by  that,  and  tho'  it  is  much  better 
to  play  by  note,  yet,  as  I  could  not  always  use  my  eyes,  I 
learned  this.  .  .  . 

Nov.  26,  1852. 

.  .  .  One  thing  I  've  here  that  few  students  have  —  a  very 
large  tub,  no  modern  tin  hat  or  anything  of  the  kind,  but  a 
huge  wooden  tub  for  which  I  was  measured  as  I  lay  on  the 
floor,  and  in  it  I  jump  every  morning,  and  it  is  the  best  thing 
I  have  except  my  piano.   Oh !  I  am  very  well  off  indeed.   .  .  . 

Now  I  think  of  it,  let  me  say  to  you  that  it  is  useless  to 
expect  me  to  come  home  with  strong  eyes  or  certainly  well 
ones;  for  tho'  they  are,  I  think,  much  better,  yet  they  are  by 
no  means  well,  and  indeed  I  do  not  suppose  they  will  be  before 
the  limit  first  set  by  Dr.  B.,  my  twenty-first  year.  Do  not 
feel  discouraged,  because  it  has  been  so  for  three  years  now, 
and  I  suppose  I  can  stand  it  for  three  more,  tho'  I  hope  it  will 
not  be  so  bad.  I  hope  and  expect  when  I  return  to  join  the 
present  Fresh,  class  at  the  beginning  of  my  Soph,  year,  but  I 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  53 

would  prefer  to  have  it  not  mentioned,  for  I  do  not  like  to 
have  reports  of  what  I  shall  do  circulated  when  it  is  so 
uncertain.  .  .  . 

Dec.  14,  1852. 

...  As  to  my  own  eyes,  I  can't  say  that  they  are  better 
than  when  I  came  to  Dresden,  tho'  I  did  not  expect  them  to 
be  so,  and  think  they  are  no  worse  or  certainly  very  little;  I  do 
not  use  them  much,  and  think  they  may  last  as  they  are  till 
I  begin  to  move  again,  when  they  may  improve  more.  At 
least  they  must  try  their  luck  in  college  next  year.  I  am  finely 
as  usual,  and  very  much  pleased  with  my  life;  more  so  than  I 
have  been  with  anything  since  I  left  school  three  years,  almost » 
since:  pleased  I  am,  because  satisfied  with  my  present  occupa- 
tion. I  know  I  learn  something  every  day;  that  I  need  not 
and  do  not  depend  on  those  around  me  for  occupation  and 
amusement,  but  that  I  can  always  help  myself;  that  my  mind 
has  something  to  do,  to  occupy  itself  with,  and  that  is  a  most 
important  thing  for  everyone.  It  is  an  occupation  in  itself  to 
watch  people  and  talk  with  them,  to  learn  what  they  think, 
feel,  and  do,  to  study  their  national  character,  and  compare  it 
with  our  own  and  with  what  I  know  of  theirs.  .  .  . 

I  think  this  six  months  here  may  be  a  most  useful  period  of 
my  life  in  after  years,  and  it  is  a  thing  which  I  probably  should 
never  have  done,  if  not  sent  abroad  in  this  way  when  young. 
That  is  the  only  point,  the  youth,  that  annoys  me,  and  that  not 
much.  I  of  course  am  with  men  and  women,  grown-up  per- 
sons, and  it  has  been  so  ever  since  I  was  in  Europe.  Those 
young  Englishmen  that  I  met  in  Munich  were  two  of  them 
twenty-two  and  the  third  a  little  younger  than  I :  but  the  two 
elder  ones  were  thoro'ly  men,  and  one  of  them  had  made  his 
own  living  for  some  years,  and  was  then  doing  the  same.  I 
found  them  infinitely  more  to  my  taste  and  agreeable  to  me 
than  the  younger  one,  tho'  he  was  perfectly  pleasant  and  good- 
humored.  It  has  been  so  constantly  all  thro',  and  I  've  passed 
for  twenty  years  old  everywhere  and  do  here.    Indeed  some- 


54  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

one,  I  forget  who,  thought  I  was  twenty-four.  Still  I  do  not 
feel  so  old,  and  I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  have  a  good  game 
of  football  or  something  of  the  sort.  .  .  . 

The  diary  of  1852  and  1853  gives  some  further  details  that 
illuminate  the  boy's  character  and  tastes,  in  his  strange  en- 
vironment. 

Nov.  12.  Mr.  Webster  dead.  Much  feeling  about  it  in 
America. 

Nov.  16.  Heard  "Masaniello."  Beautiful  opera  and  the 
overture  remarkable. 

Nov.  18.  My  birthday.  [He  was  now  18.]  Saw  the  gallery 
for  the  first  time.  The  Madonna  (Raphael)  by  all  odds  the 
finest  thing  I  ever  saw.  .  .  .  But  I  must  see  more  before 
saying  anything. 

Nov.  20.  Went  to  a  concert  on  the  Terrace  and  heard  a 
symphony  of  Beethoven's  and  more  very  good  music.  Some 
of  Wagner's  which  I  liked  very  well  indeed. 

Nov.   26.   Went  to  Mr.  Motley's. 

Sunday,  Nov.  28.  Heard  "Tannhauser"  of  Wagner's.  A 
very  beautiful  opera  indeed,  and  showing  a  vast  deal  of  talent, 
I  think.  Very  difficult  music,  and  must  be  heard  several  times. 
It  is  equal  to  Meyerbeer's.    No  ballet,  and  a  deal  of  singing. 

Dec.  3.  Went  to  a  fine  concert.  Had  "The  Rose  of  Pilger- 
fahrt"  from  Schumann  and  "(Edipus"  from  Mendelssohn. 
The  first  beautiful  and  very  well  sung,  particularly  the  soprano 
and  tenor  parts.  "(Edipus,"  entirely  for  men's  voices,  is  very 
fine,  but  too  deep  to  decide  at  one  hearing. 

Dec.  4.  Heard  the  "  Prophet."  It  is  fine  but  not  so  good  as 
"Roberto,"  I  think,  tho'  I  must  hear  it  twice  more  to  decide. 
Too  much  spectacle  and  the  skating  is  too  much  prolonged. 
Still  it  is  very  fine  music  indeed,  tho'  not  well  performed  that 
night.  The  tenor  is  no  actor  and  Michalesi  is  too  old  for  her 
part. 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  55 

Dec.  6.  Began  my  music  lessons.  Went  to  a  rather  common 
bail,  but  had  a  good  time.  We  almost  got  into  a  fight.  Went 
to  bed  at  5  a.m. 

Dec.  11.  Heard  "Iphigenia  in  Aulis"  from  Gliick.  A  very 
fine  opera  indeed,  with  small  amount  of  show  and  most  beau- 
tiful music.  Better  performed  than  they  usually  play  here. 
It  must,  like  the  other  great  operas,  be  heard  more  than  once. 

Dec.  14.  Made  my  first  visit  to  a  German  family  and  had 
a  good  time. 

Dec.  15.  Heard  a  Pole,  "Mr.  Dawison,"  play  "Shylock," 
and  it  was  very  fine  indeed.  Everything  about  the  company 
was  good. 

Dec.  24.  The  presents  were  given  this  evening,  and  a  very 
pretty  sight  it  was.  The  little  tree  lighted,  etc.  Some  relations 
of  Mad.  W.  were  there  and  we  had  a  very  pleasant  supper  in- 
deed. Afterwards  two  of  us  went  to  the  Catholic  church  to 
hear  mass  from  eleven  to  one  o'clock.  The  music  was  very  fine 
indeed.   The  church  very  full. 

Dec.  25.  Christmas  Day.  Went  to  Mr.  Motley's  to  dinner, 
and  after  to  see  a  quantity  of  children  receive  their  presents  in 
the  "Odeon."   Very  pretty. 

Dec.  30.  Went  to  Berlin  with  Sedgwick1  and  arrived  after 
six  hours'  ride.  No  scenery.  Met  a  number  of  Americans, 
Crocker,  Joy,  Easter,  Hungerford,  Heard,  Aiken,  Williams, 
Underwood,  Whitney,  Brown,  Levett  Hunt,  Ellery,  Dr.  Ab- 
bott, etc.  Very  pleasant,  all  of  them.  .  .  .  Went  to  hear 
"Euryanthe"  of  Weber,  with  Wagner,  Koster,  another  prima 
donna,  a  tenor  Formes,  and  some  others.  Beautiful  music 
and  learned,  requiring  to  be  heard  often.  Wagner's  voice 
is  splendid,  but  she  sings  too  loud  sometimes.  I  like  her  very 
much.  Koster  has  a  beautiful  voice  tho'  not  very  strong,  but 
she  sings  beautifully  and  would  have  pleased  me  more  a  year 
since  than  Wagner.  She  is  very  graceful  and  I  think  pretty, 
and  Wagner  is  just  the  contrary.  The  tenor  is  very  fine  tho' 

1  William  Dwight  Sedgwick,  who  was  killed  at  Antietam. 


56  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

not  equal  to  Tichatschek,  yet  he  sings  better.  The  other 
singers  good ;  a  baritone  or  bass  Krause  very  good.  The  whole 
opera  well  got  up.  The  orchestra  very  fine,  but  no  better  than 
the  Dresden,  tho'  a  little  stronger;  it  seemed  to  me  there  was 
a  little  too  much  brass,  but  I  don't  know.  The  ballet  is  said 
to  be  very  good  here,  but  there  was  very  little  dancing  in 
"Euryanthe."  The  theatre  is  the  handsomest,  most  brilliant 
I  've  seen,  and  the  King's  box  is  very  handsome.  .  .  .  After 
the  theatre  we  went  to  a  number  of  cafes,  etc.,  and  had  a  good 
deal  of  fun. 

Dec.  31.  Went  to  Mr.  Fay's,  who  is  very  agreeable,  sang, 
etc.,  and  then  to  a  masked  public  ball.  We  danced  somewhat, 
but  all  the  women  were  engaged;  it  was  at  "Kroll's"  and  the 
room  is  very  fine  indeed.  Saw  the  New  Year  in,  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life. 

Jan.  3,  1853.  In  the  evening  in  opera  house  we  saw  "Ham- 
let" in  German,  and  I  did  not  understand  a  great  deal.  A 
man  Dessoir  played  Hamlet,  and  very  well  too. 

Jan.  5.   Left  Berlin  and  got  home  in  the  evening. 

Jan.  14.  Went  to  my  first  Casino  ball  and  did  pretty  well; 
but  it  was  stiff,  and  I  knew  no  German  ladies.  The  English 
are  not  easy  to  dance  with. 

Jan.  25.  Heard  "  Jessonda"  from  the  Meyer.  Very  beauti- 
ful indeed,  improving  vastly  on  acquaintance.  Meyer  sang 
beautifully,  I  think,  and  the  critics  are  all  wrong  about  her: 
she  sings  in  time,  truly,  and  clearly.  The  others,  particularly 
Mittewurzer,  sang  very  well. 

Jan.  31.  "Josua"  oratorio  from  Handel.  Very  fine,  tho' 
rather  beyond  me. 

Feb.  3.  Saw  "Die  Stumme  von  Portici."  Such  an  overture 
as  that  has  been  rarely  composed,  I  believe.  A  beautiful  opera, 
and  very  much  better  than  before.  Tichatschek  sings  very 
well  indeed  in  it,  and  everything  is  so  charming. 

Feb.  9.  Great  concert  in  the  theatre:  played  a  symphony 
from  Haydn,  performed  for  the  first  time  here,  very  beautiful 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  57 

indeed,  and  the  melodies,  two  movements,  were  repeated. 
The  orchestra  played  exquisitely.  Some  choruses,  a  song  from 
Meyer,  and  a  symphony  from  Beethoven  more  beautiful  to  me 
than  Haydn's.  The  finest  concert  I've  heard,  I  think.  The 
orchestra  very  full  and  Lapinski  leading  and  Beissinger  direct- 
ing. Afterwards  we  had  another  lesson  for  our  costume-dance. 

Feb.  10.  Had  our  costume-dance  in  Lese-Verein,  and  it  suc- 
ceeded capitally,  I  believe.  My  partner  was  the  best  dancer, 
and  she  certainly  looked  and  danced  very  prettily.  The  short 
dresses,  boots,  etc.,  were  very  pretty,  but  our  dress  was  ugly 
enough  and  very  hot.  My  moustache  was  highly  successful  and 
admired  by  my  partner  and  others  much.  Afterwards  we  had 
a  very  nice  dance,  and  in  the  two  dances  the  ladies  engaged, 
I  had  much  to  do.  We  danced  until  about  5  o'clock,  and  got 
to  bed  at  6  o'clock  a.m. 

Feb.  19.  Heard  "The  Montagues  and  Capulets."  A  good 
opera,  but  the  Italian  music  is  very  meagre  after  the  German, 
nothing  but  melody  and  very  little  accompaniment.  It  does 
not  appear  to  me  nearly  so  good  as  "Puritani."  The  Meyer 
sang  very  well  and  with  a  good  deal  of  taste,  I  think,  but  she 
did  not  please  me  so  much  as  she  has  before,  in  "Jessonda" 
and  perhaps  in  other  parts.  The  Krebs  sang  finely,  better 
than  I  could  have  believed  she  could,  and  she  looked  and 
played  very  well  indeed.  The  other  parts  are  not  much,  tho' 
the  tenor  is  a  tolerable  one  and  fairly  sung.  It  is  not  Bellini's 
best,  and  far  behind  the  German  music  for  me. 

Feb.  23.  Went  to  a  little  party  at  Mrs.  Motley's.  Very 
pleasant. 

March  5.  The  police  were  at  the  Professor's  to-day,  and 
searched  the  house,  also  throughout  the  city;  nothing  found. 

March  7.  Went  to  the  last  Lapinski  concert,  beautiful  in- 
deed. Very  sorry  they  are  over. 

March  9.  Heard  a  nice  comedy  with  Devrient,  who  plays 
capitally;  very  good  and  amusing.    Understood  pretty  well. 

March  11.    Drew  10  pounds.    Passport  was  late  and  so  I 


58  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

could  not  go  with  the  others  to  Prague,  but  the  pass,  came  in 
p.m.  and  I  went  at  10  o'clock.  There  was  a  strong  endeavor  to 
put  me  thro'  a  course  of  sprouts  reaching  nearly  to  the  skin, 
but  it  failed.  Reached  Prague  at  5,  and  turned  in  for  three 
hours.   Very  cold. 

He  passed  a  delightful  week  in  the  galleries,  churches,  and 
museums  of  Vienna,  a  city  which  was  later  to  be  his  home  for 
several  years.  "An  Italian  opera  troupe  here,  and  therefore  I 
shall  not  go  to  the  opera."  But  he  heard  Weber's  "Frei- 
schiitz"  in  Prague  on  the  way  back  to  Dresden,  and  liked  it. 
This  Boston  youth  of  eighteen  perceived  that  "the  ladies  of 
Vienna  and  Prague  have  much  beauty,  far  more  than  in 
Dresden."  Returning  to  Dresden  on  March  19,  he  was  just 
in  time  for  "the  rehearsal  of  the  great  concert  in  the  theatre. 
The  concert  is  Mozart's  '  Requiem '  and  the  ninth  Symphony 
of  Beethoven  with  a  chorus  and  singing.  The  finest  concert 
I  think  I  ever  heard.  The  'Requiem'  wonderful,  but  hard 
to  understand  and  take  in.  The  symphony  most  beautiful, 
and  the  singing  part  also." 

Sunday,  March  20.  Heard  again  the  great  concert,  and  it 
was  much  better  (to  me)  but  I  had  a  bad  place.  The  theatre 
very  full.  These  two  concerts  have  been  most  wonderful,  and 
one  wishes  to  hear  them  12  times  or  more. 

March  21.  The  police  asked  to  see  me  about  my  passport, 
and  asked  a  few  questions  of  no  importance. 

March  22.  I  received  my  notice  from  the  police  to  quit,  and 
wrote  immediately  to  Mr.  Barnard,  American  Minister  in 
Berlin,  and  to  Mr.  Fay. 

March  23.  My  affair  is  going  on,  Mr.  Forbes,  the  English 
Minister,  having  interfered  with  the  Saxon,  one  Beust. 

March  25.  Wrote  to  Beust  and  sent  these  two  letters  with 
mine  to  him.  Rec'd  leave  early  in  the  day  to  remain  another 
day. 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  59 

March  26.  Heard  thro'  Mr.  Forbes  that  the  police  have 
orders  not  to  act  for  the  present. 

This  affair  of  the  "police,"  which  mystified  young  Higgin- 
son  at  the  time,  and  amused  him  throughout  his  life,  is  best 
explained  through  a  letter  which  Mr.  Motley  wrote  to  Mr. 
Henry  Cabot  of  Boston,  the  grandfather  of  Honorable  Henry 
Cabot  Lodge,  who  discovered  the  letter  in  191 1.  Through  his 
kindness  it  is  here  reprinted. 

Dresden,  26  March,  '53. 
My  dear  Mr.  Cabot:  — 

Young  Higginson,  who  brought  me  a  letter  of  introduction 
from  yourself  in  November  last,  is  writing  by  this  mail  to  his 
father.  I  have  promised  to  write  to  you  also,  to  give  an  ac- 
count of  a  slight  episode  in  the  history  of  our  own  time  in 
which  he  is  connected. 

He  went  to  Vienna  about  a  fortnight  ago  in  company  with 
some  young  friends  (Americans)  from  Berlin.  They  all  went 
off  sooner  than  he  had  expected,  in  order  to  reach  Rome  for 
the  Holy  Week.  Being  left  alone,  he  returned  to  Dresden.  On 
applying  for  his  carte  de  sejoar  next  day,  he  was  informed  by  the 
police  that  he  must  leave  the  city  within  three  days.  He  came 
to  me  for  advice.  I  told  him  that  he  had  better  write  at  once 
to  Mr.  Barnard,  the  American  Minister  in  Berlin,  and  that 
I  would  at  the  same  time  address  a  line  to  Mr.  Fay,  secretary 
of  Legation  there,  who  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine. 

As  Higginson  was  entirely  innocent  of  any  offense  either  by 
word  or  deed  against  the  Government  of  Saxony  or  of  any 
other  Government  in  Europe,  the  affront  of  expelling  him 
from  Dresden  seemed  not  only  unjust  but  even  ridiculous.  I 
stated  as  much  to  Mr.  Fay,  and  I  gave  him  at  the  same  time 
the  assurance  that  the  young  gentleman  thus  shabbily  treated 
was  a  member  of  one  of  the  most  respectable  families  in  Mas- 
sachusetts, that  he  had  left  our  college  on  account  of  his  eye- 


60  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

sight,  which  had  been  slightly  impaired  by  study,  and  that  he 
was  in  Dresden  for  the  sake  of  acquiring  the  German  language. 

In  the  meantime,  as  the  term  was  so  short,  and  as  I  consid- 
ered it  highly  important  that  this  police  order  should  be  sus- 
pended in  order  that  he  might  not  be  obliged  to  leave  the 
town  at  the  dictation  of  the  police,  I  consulted  privately  and 
unofficially  the  English  Minister  here,  Mr.  Forbes,  with  whom 
I  happened  to  be  intimately  acquainted.  As  he  is  always  as 
ready  to  do  a  kindness  to  an  American,  as  to  one  of  his  own 
countrymen,  I  thought  it  best  to  apply  to  him,  that  the  matter 
might  be  stopped  in  time  if  possible. 

This  I  thought  would  be  in  better  taste  and  more  agreeable 
to  Mr.  Higginson's  father  and  friends  than  for  him  to  submit 
to  an  expulsion  and  then  to  become  the  topic  of  several  long- 
winded  official  despatches  and  newspaper  paragraphs.  Judg- 
ing of  their  feelings  by  my  own,  I  thought  they  would  prefer 
that  he  should  establish  the  high  respectability  of  his  position 
at  home  and  of  his  individual  character  and  so  be  allowed  to 
remain,  rather  than  to  make  a  claim  for  an  empty  apology 
afterwards,  which  might  or  might  not  be  granted. 

Mr.  Forbes,  within  ten  minutes  after  my  conversation  with 
him,  mentioned  the  matter  to  the  chief  minister  here,  who  is 
at  the  head  both  of  foreign  affairs  and  of  the  home  depart- 
ment. The  minister  stated  that  he  had  not  yet  been  informed 
as  to  the  facts  of  the  case,  but  he  had  thought  that  Mr.  Hig- 
ginson  was  an  Englishman  who  had  been  recently  expelled 
from  Vienna.  Mr.  Forbes  in  the  evening  called  at  my  house, 
and  after  being  informed  by  me  that  his  last  statement  was 
entirely  erroneous,  he  addressed  a  note  to  the  minister,  cor- 
recting the  mistake.  The  reply  was  a  hurried  line,  stating  that 
Higginson  was  at  liberty  to  stay  a  day  longer,  and  that  in  the 
meantime  the  affair  would  be  examined.  Next  day  came  let- 
ters from  Mr.  Barnard  and  Mr.  Fay,  at  Berlin,  vouching  at 
length  and  in  the  strongest  terms  for  the  high  respectability 
of  Mr.  Higginson  and  expressing  an  undoubting  conviction 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  61 

that  the  police  authorities  of  Dresden,  in  ordering  his  expul- 
sion, were  acting  under  error  or  upon  some  grossly  false  infor- 
mation. These  papers  were  enclosed  by  Higginson,  according 
to  my  advice,  to  the  Minister  of  State  (Amory's  old  acquaint- 
ance, von  Beust,  by  the  way),  accompanied  by  a  brief  note 
expressing  his  entire  innocence  of  any  offense  against  the  re- 
pose of  the  Kingdom  of  Saxony  or  of  the  Austrian  Empire. 

This  morning  I  received  a  note  from  Mr.  Forbes  informing 
me  that  he  had  just  received  one  from  Mr.  de  Beust.  In  this 
communication  the  Home  Minister  stated  that  "orders  had 
been  given  to  the  police  not  to  act  for  the  present."  Mr. 
Forbes  added  his  conviction  "that  nothing  more  would  be 
done  to  annoy  Mr.  Higginson." 

I  have  just  written  an  account  of  the  whole  matter  to  Mr. 
Fay  at  Berlin,  and  unless  Mr.  Barnard  should  think  proper, 
which  I  do  not  expect  or  desire  (for  my  own  part),  to  take  any 
further  official  notice  of  the  transaction,  the  subject  will,  I 
suppose,  be  thus  terminated.  .  .  . 

The  real  dessons  des  cartes  of  the  whole  business  is  simply 
this.  Higginson  was  advised  before  ever  coming  to  Dresden, 
by  some  friends,  to  take  up  his  residence,  for  the  sake  of  learn- 
ing the  language,  in  the  family  of  a  certain  professor  of  stenog- 
raphy, who  is  disliked  by  the  government  here  for  his  political 
principles.  I  know  nothing  of  him,  good,  bad,  or  indifferent. 
Higginson  was  already  established  in  his  house  before  he  pre- 
sented himself  to  me  last  November.  I  never  had  heard  the 
professor's  name  in  my  life,  and  as  H.  had  never  asked  my  ad- 
vice on  the  subject,  of  course  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  give 
him  any.  Neither  did  it  ever  occur  to  me  that  he  would  render 
himself  liable  to  any  such  annoyance  by  having  selected  such 
quarters. 

I  suppose  the  matter  is  now  settled.  At  the  same  time,  were 
I  in  Higginson's  place  I  should  not  feel  inclined  (having  fully 
vindicated  my  character)  to  stay  much  longer  in  a  place  where 
my  least  action  would  be  inevitably  observed.   The  professor 


62  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

with  whom  he  lives  is  under  the  minute  surveillance  of  the 
police  and  so  doubtless  are  all  his  inmates.  I  know  no  advan- 
tage to  be  derived  by  Higginson  from  a  long  stay  in  Dresden, 
which  would  compensate  for  such  an  uncomfortable  position. 
...  If  governments  are  afraid  of  such  a  perfectly  quiet  and 
well-behaved  young  man  as  your  kinsman,  they  must  be  of 
necessity  in  a  perpetual  state  of  anxiety  and  trepidation. 
There  could  hardly  have  been  a  more  harmless  "looker  on  in 
Vienna"  than  H.  was.   .  .   . 

Very  sincerely  and  affectionately  yours, 

J.  L.  M. 

Major  Higginson's  comment  upon  this  letter,  when  Senator 
Lodge  brought  it  to  his  attention,  is  too  breezily  characteristic 
to  be  omitted :  — 

July  25,  191 1. 
Dear  Cabot:  — 

Thank  you  for  your  note  and  for  that  interesting  paper  from 
Mr.  Motley.  I  never  have  forgotten  the  event,  for  it  made  a 
deep  impression  and,  indeed,  excited  much  wrath.  Mr.  Mot- 
ley was  very  kind  indeed,  and  the  same  is  true  of  Mr.  Forbes, 
the  English  Minister;  von  Beust,  who  was  much  hated  at  that 
time,  and  who  afterwards  was  in  the  Prussian  service,  treated 
me  civilly  enough,  although  it  was  in  a  lordly  style  which  those 
men  use.   I  could  have  punched  his  head  with  pleasure.   .  .  . 

I  had  taken  a  good  deal  of  pains  not  to  annoy  anybody,  had 
never  had  a  pistol,  never  talked  of  a  pistol,  never  threatened 
anybody,  had  done  nothing  irregular,  did  not  drink  or  smoke, 
went  to  my  lessons  regularly  and  to  the  theatre  or  the  opera 
two  or  three  times  a  week,  and  to  all  the  concerts  I  could  find. 
(I  was  eighteen  years  old.)  The  little  pistol  incident,  which 
had  been  cooked  up  no  doubt  in  order  to  get  me  out  of  the 
town,  and  then  the  other  part  of  confronting  me  with  the 
witness,  made  me  very  wrathy.  Mr.  Motley  knew  of  it  at  the 
time,  I  think,  but  it  was  not  worth  remembering.    Then  I 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  63 

stayed  a  few  days,  and  quit,  going  to  Berlin,  where  I  stayed 
some  months.  There,  following  the  advice  of  Mr.  Fay,  as  I 
think,  I  made  for  myself  a  very  regular  life,  going  to  the  lec- 
tures at  a  certain  hour,  and  going  to  the  theatre,  and  never 
had  any  more  trouble.  .  .  . 

The  boy  took  his  time  before  leaving  for  Berlin,  lingering 
in  the  Gallery  over  Holbeins,  Ruysdaels,  and  hearing  "die 
Ney"  in  "Norma"  —  a  new  singer  whose  voice  was  admi- 
rable, though  she  was  ' '  ugly  and  badly  made.  Only  the  singing 
part  of  her  is  good." 

Sunday,  April  3.  Heard  the  "Huguenots"  for  the  first 
time:  it  pleased  me  better  than  'The  Prophet,"  tho'  still 
Meyerbeer  makes  too  much  noise  and  show.  The  long  scene 
between  the  lovers  is  very  good,  and  many  other  things  too. 
I  must  hear  it  more  to  decide.  Tichatschek  is  here  and  sang 
most  beautifully,  and  also  "the  Ney."  Mittewurzer  very 
badly.  "Tichat"  is  perfectly  wonderful,  more  so  than  "the 
Ney." 

April  6.  Heard  "Oberon"  from  Weber.  The  overture  very 
beautiful,  and  I  liked  the  whole  opera  very  .much,  tho'  it 
wants  more  hearing.  Too  much  "spectacle,"  and  yet,  with  the 
story,  almost  unavoidable.  Beautiful  scenery  and  all  very 
pleasing  indeed.  Tichatschek  and  others  sang  very  well,  and 
"the  Ney"  better  and  with  more  expression  than  I  have  heard 
her  before.   Much  pleased. 

April  10.  Heard  "Der  Freischiitz"  again  with  "the  Ney" 
and  Tichatschek.  I  liked  it  very  well  indeed  in  some  parts, 
and  it  was  well  performed,  but  I  should  like  to  hear  it  again 
with  a  little  more  passion  and  more  soul. 

April  13.  Heard  "The  Prophet"  again.  Better  than  before, 
but  still  not  much,  after  the  old  composers. 

April  15.  Went  on  the  terrace  and  heard  a  "zither,"  a  very 
old  instrument,  like  a  guitar  a  little,  tho'  not  so  long. 


64  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

April  16.  Heard  "Martha"  in  the  evening,  with  Ellinger 
again.  A  very  fair  little  opera  with  some  good  things  in  it, 
but  the  best  air  stolen  as  aforesaid.  "The  Meyer"  sang  very 
well,  pleasing  as  usual. 

April  22.  Went  to  see  Mr.  Forbes,  the  English  Min.,  very 
pleasant  man.  Packed  up  and  went  off.  Arrived  in  Berlin  in 
the  evening.  Had  160  German  lbs.  luggage.  Went  to  Dr. 
Abbott. 

Berlin  in  the  spring  of  1853  was  not  an  inspiring  place  for 
the  Boston  boy.  He  took  lodgings  in  the  Jager-Strasse,  at- 
tended Professor  Magnus's  lectures  in  physics,  took  lessons  in 
German  and  music,  and  went  steadily  to  the  theatres  and 
opera  house;  but  the  diary  gives  one  the  impression  that  he 
was  bored.  He  was  troubled  too,  by  the  question  of  his  future. 
Back  in  March,  at  Dresden,  just  before  the  difficulty  with  the 
police,  he  had  written  a  twenty-four  page  letter  to  his  father, 
discussing  the  various  professions,  and  asking  his  father's 
counsel  upon  the  advisability  of  remaining  two  or  three  years 
at  a  German  university.    Portions  of  this  letter  follow. 

Law  seems  to  me  a  profession  calculated  to  draw  forth  the 
disagreeable,  disputatious,  quarrelsome  features,  which  are 
more  or  less  in  every  man's  character.  .  .  .  There  is  one 
thing  about  a  doctor's  profession  that  places  it  in  my  eyes 
high  above  a  lawyer's,  that  is,  it  is  one  in  which  there  is  al- 
ways room  for  advance  and  improvement  of  the  profession 
itself,  not  of  one's  self  in  it.  .  .  .  For  a  clergyman's  calling 
there  is  but  one  thing  to  be  said,  as  it  appears  to  me:  if  one 
feels  inside  himself,  in  his  heart,  that  he  should  be  a  clergyman, 
let  him  be  one,  and  on  no  other  condition.  As  regards  a  mer- 
chant, you  yourself  are  most  strongly  set  against  any  of  us 
following  the  profession,  and  I  for  myself  am  too  —  if  any- 
thing better  offers.  In  the  first  place  money  is  the  thing  with 
a  merchant.  .  .  .  How  often  have  both  you  and  Grandfather 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  65 

Lee  said  to  us  all,  "Don't  be  merchants;  anything  else  is 
better ! "  .  .  .  There  is  but  one  conclusion  to  be  drawn  of  your 
opinion  of  wealth,  which  I  know  you  have  always  had  —  that 
it  is  very  dangerous.  Moreover,  what  good  personally  does  a 
man  derive  from  money  further  than  that  always  derived  from 
giving?  ...  Of  an  engineer  or  surveyor's  profession  I  think 
very  well  .  .  .  but  it  takes  one  rather  too  much  away  from  the 
civilized  world,  excludes  one  too  much  from  any  social  enjoy- 
ment. ...  If  I  was  sure  I  had  a  talent  for  music,  as  I  am  cer- 
tain that  it  is  the  one  thing  I  like  best  in  the  world,  I  would 
study  it  thoroughly  and  make  it  my  profession.  But  I  am  not, 
and  therefore  shall  merely  do  so  far  as  lies  in  my  power.  .  .  . 

There  are  several  professions  here  which  we  hardly  have  as 
yet  as  professions,  and  among  them  some  very  necessary  to  us. 
One,  that  of  chemist,  —  I  do  not  mean  merely  apothecary,  for 
the  sale  of  drugs,  —  is  very  little  practised  as  a  profession  in 
America,  and  yet  how  necessary,  in  our  factories  very  much, 
in  farming  also  very  useful.  .  .  .  It  is  as  yet  a  very  empty 
profession,  and  all  the  others  I  have  named  are  very  full.  .  .  . 
I  cannot  say  that  I  should  like  to  follow  it  as  a  profession,  but 
I  should  like  some  knowledge  .  .  .  and  then  I  can  judge  more 
properly.  ...  I  have  striven  to  understand  myself,  my  own 
nature,  character,  feelings,  all  as  hard,  nay  harder  than  for 
anything,  and  if  I  have  not  succeeded,  it  is  not  my  fault;  but 
I  think  I  have.  Since  I  have  left  home,  it  appears  to  me  I 
have  changed,  I  have  grown  older,  I  have  found  my  way,  and 
can  see  more  clearly  thro'  the  mist  that  envelopes  one's  youth ; 
I  feel  more  as  if  I  had  an  object  in  life,  and  consequently  hap- 
pier and  better  satisfied  with  myself.  I  do  not  know  whether 
you  have  marked  anything  of  the  kind  in  my  letters,  but  it 
is  so.  .  .  . 

Now  what  I  wish  to  ask  is  to  stay  here  longer,  and  go  to  a 
university  and  gain  all  I  can.  It  may  seem  strange  for  me, 
with  weak  eyes,  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  but  I  have  been  wait- 
ing some  time  to  tell  you  what  I  can  now,  that  my  eyes  are 


66  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

decidedly  better.  ...  I  can  study  six  hours  a  day,  and  to- 
day have  been  writing  and  practising  with  notes  seven  or 
more  without  any  suffering  to  speak  of .  ...  I  think  it  would 
be  well  to  take  chemistry,  physics  to  a  certain  degree,  perhaps 
history,  and  to  continue  with  music.  ...  Of  the  bad  habits  of 
the  German  students,  I  think  with  myself  there  is  not  much 
danger.  I  mean  the  fighting,  beer-drinking,  and  smoking. 
For  the  first  I  have  merely  to  say  that  it  is  too  childish  and 
silly  to  be  tolerated;  for  beer,  tho'  I  have  tried  to  like  it,  as  it 
is  wholesome  and  good  in  moderation,  I  have  not  the  slightest 
taste,  and  have  a  very  strong  distaste;  for  all  liquors  and  wines 
I  seem  to  have  been  born  with  a  dislike,  for  which  I  am  truly 
thankful ;  and  as  to  smoking,  altho'  it  would  be  a  great  conven- 
ience to  smoke,  as  I  am  every  day  annoyed  by  it,  I  have  a 
real  hate  for  tobacco  in  every  shape,  and  I  think  I  would  not 
learn  for  the  world.  It  may  be  that  at  last  I  should  come  to 
it,  but  I  do  not  believe  it  after  a  year's  seasoning,  such  as  I 
have  had.  .  .  . 

You  must  decide  what  you  can  afford.  .  .  .  There  is  one 
thing,  as  I  before  said,  that  makes  me  very,  very  sorry  to 
leave  Europe :  the  loss  of  music.  I  do  think  it  makes  and  has 
made  a  real  and  a  great  change  in  me,  since  I  first  began  with 
it;  and  if  I  continue  to  hear  and  to  cultivate  it,  so  will  the 
change  go  on  and  the  advantage  increase.  I  do  not  believe  there 
is  anything  more  refining  than  music,  no  greater  or  stronger 
preservative  against  evil,  and  at  least  for  me  it  has  done  much. 
I  am  almost  thankful  that  I  have  had  weak  eyes;  indeed  I  am 
quite  so,  for  it  has  given  me  the  time  and  opportunity  to  find 
out  how  much  music  is  to  me,  and  it  has  opened  pleasures  to 
me  that  otherwise  would  very  possibly  have  never  been  dis- 
covered. I  am  afraid  to  trust  to  my  feelings  within,  to  my  own 
ideas,  or  I  should  study  music  for  a  profession.  I  know  not 
how  one  finds  that  he  has  a  talent  for  any  one  thing  without 
trying:  but  everyone  has  a  particular  faculty  for  something, 
everyone  has  a  decided  turn  and  talent  for  a  particular  branch, 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  67 

and  it  is  his  duty  to  try  to  find  this  out,  and  to  turn  to  it.  If 
one  may  trust  what  he  hears  within  himself,  in  his  own  heart, 
and  be  sure  that  it  is  right,  I  should  say  that  my  talent  was  for 
music,  and  that,  if  I  studied  it  properly  and  persevered,  I 
could  bring  out  something  worth  having,  worthy  of  a  life  thus 
spent,  worthy  of  a  man,  worthy  of  my  mother  and  of  you. 
...  I  would  not  be  a  music  teacher  for  anything;  far  better 
to  be  a  merchant.  ...  I  beg  of  you  not  to  show  this  letter  to 
anyone.  ...  If  you  can  give  me  any  answer  by  the  middle  of 
May,  I  should  be  glad. 

Here  was  a  good  deal,  surely,  to  set  George  Higginson 
thinking.  "  I  pray  Heaven  to  give  me  power  to  aid  you  by  my 
experiences  and  counsels,"  he  replied;  but  the  counsels  varied 
with  each  letter.  In  general  he  was  inclined,  at  first,  to  leave 
the  decision  to  Henry,  though  he  suggested  a  return  to  Cam- 
bridge for  two  years,  to  be  followed  by  attendance  at  some 
university  in  Germany.  He  wants  his  son  to  take  more  pains 
with  style,  to  "attend  church  once  at  least  on  Sundays,"  to 
overcome  "a  certain  dash  or  tinge  of  conceit,"  which  he  dis- 
covers in  Henry's  letters,  to  take  boxing  and  dancing  lessons, 
to  avoid  the  "anti-Christian  and  unholy"  practice  of  dueling, 
to  frequent  the  society  of  "cultured  ladies,"  and  to  beware  of 
the  infidelity  and  immorality  of  a  university  city,  lest  the  father 
should  feel  "the  self-reproach  in  after  years  of  beholding  you 
astray  and  with  unstable  opinions  on  all  sacred  things,  trace- 
able perhaps  to  foreign  influences." 

The  boy's  answers  to  these  various  admonitions  are  full  of 
patient  good  sense.  As  for  the  boxing  lessons,  "Bully  Hig"  is 
becomingly  modest :  — 

You  suggest  the  propriety  of  dancing  and  boxing  lessons, 
and  also  drawing,  to  me.  I  have  danced  enough  for  the  pres- 
ent, and  as  to  boxing,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  Englishmen 
in  Dresden,  I  was  very  likely,  indeed  probably,  the  best  boxer 


68  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

there.  The  Germans  have  no  idea  of  boxing,  not  one.  Drawing 
is  a  thing  I  should  like  very  much  to  do,  but  I  do  not  think  I 
have  any  faculty  for  it,  and  moreover  it  is  not  well  to  under- 
take so  many  things  at  once. 

On  the  subject  of  immorality  and  infidelity  the  boy  writes 
with  perfect  frankness. 

There  is  unquestionably  less  morality  than  at  home  in  some 
ways.  .  .  .  Female  virtue  is  not  so  highly  prized  as  at  home, 
but  this  arises,  I  think,  chiefly  from  the  poverty  of  people 
generally,  and  from  the  great  restrictions  placed  by  the  Gov- 
ernment on  marriages.  Drinking  is  very  much  less  frequent 
than  at  home,  at  least  hard  drinking.  ...  I  know  full  well 
all  these  dangers,  or  at  least  as  well  as  one  who  has  not  tried 
them  can ;  I  have  been  here  perfectly  free  for  a  year,  and  have 
seen  something  of  them  all  in  others.  I  have  refused  several 
times  to  go  to  Paris  until  I  was  older  and  more  seasoned ;  and 
even  now,  tho'  I  could  and  should  like  much  to  go  with  Uncle 
H.  this  summer,  I  will  not  do  so.  Believe  me,  I  will  not  make 
the  false  step  in  these  matters.  .  .  .  About  this  matter  of 
infidelity  I  have  thought  lately  considerably.  The  great  diffi- 
culty with  the  Germans  is  indifference.  ...  If  you  knew  how 
hateful  this  indifference  among  the  Germans  about  matters 
of  religion  is  to  me,  more  hateful  even  than  open  atheism,  for 
that  shows  decision  and  thought,  at  least,  and  is  moreover 
more  pitiable  than  hateable !  .  .  .  You  say  in  your  last  letter 
that  you  "recommend"  me  to  return.  ...  If  you  mean  so, 
do  say,  "you  must  return,"  or  express  the  command.  .  .  .  Do 
be  quick  but  sure. 

But  after  having  given  his  "free  assent"  to  Henry's  plans 
for  remaining  in  Germany,  the  father  announces,  late  in  June, 
that  he  has  changed  his  mind.  He  has  had  "anxious  doubts" 
ever  since  he  gave  assent,  and  now  he  wishes  his  son  to  come 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  69 

home,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  social  advantages  of  Cambridge, 
and  to  "cherish  these  blessed  family  bonds."  Eliot  Cabot  has 
told  him  that  the  surface  drainage  of  Berlin  is  offensive  in 
summer-time,  and  likely  to  result  in  an  epidemic  of  cholera. 
James  is  entering  Harvard,  and  will  need  an  older  brother's 
care.  And  "I  need  you";  at  last  the  affectionate,  worrying 
father  tells  the  whole  truth. 

May,  June,  and  July  dragged  on,  while  these  letters  went 
back  and  forth.  "Read  pretty  nearly  all  day,"  the  diary 
records.  "  Read  and  read,  and  heard  '  Fidelio.'  "  "  Read  again 
much."  Dr.  and  Mrs.  William  Dexter  of  Boston  were  kind  to 
him,  as  were  the  Fays  and  the  Barnards.  One  lucky  Sunday 
he  met  "a  young  American,  Mr.  Gildersleeve,"  who  was 
later  to  become  the  famous  Johns  Hopkins  professor,  and  the 
two  boys  went  to  Kroll's  Theatre  and  heard  "Der  Frei- 
schiitz."   A  few  days  later  he  heard  "the  Wagner"  again:  — 

"Very  fine,  voice  very  fine  and  powerful,  I  think  manages 
it  well,  tho'  I  wish  to  hear  more  to  be  certain,  and  sings  with 
a  great  deal  of  feeling  and  expression.  Her  higher  notes  are 
wonderful  and  she  has  fine  low  notes  also.  Her  appearance 
pleased  me  very  well."  He  thought  Halevy's  "Die  Jiiden" 
"too  noisy  and  showy";  but  adds,  characteristically,  "  I  must 
hear  it  again  to  decide  about  it."  It  took  only  one  visit  to  the 
Dom-Kirche,  however,  to  persuade  him  that  it  was  "not 
much  of  a  church."  He  enjoyed  "the  Wagner"  and  Formes 
again  in  "Lucrezia  Borgia"  and  "Die  Jiiden,"  and  liked  par- 
ticularly "the  Koster"  in  Gliick's  "Iphigenia  in  Tauris,"  al- 
though this  composition  seemed  to  him  "very  hard  indeed  to 
understand." 

A  letter  from  the  Island  of  Riigen,  on  July  27,  shows  that 
the  boy  was  wearying  of  the  long  uncertainty,  and  was  ready 
enough  to  welcome  any  decision  that  his  father  might  make. 

.  .  .  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  just  where  this  island  is, 
for  it  is  a  very  small  one.   It  is  just  off  the  southern  shore 


70  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

of  the  Baltic,  north  of  Stettin,  and  about  10  hours  sail  from 
that  place.  We,  that  is  Dr.  Dexter,  Mrs.  D.,  and  myself, 
heard  of  this  place  as  a  pleasant  one,  and  after  studying  it 
out,  determined  to  come  here,  and  spend  as  long  a  time  as 
was  agreeable,  in  walking,  bathing,  fishing,  reading,  etc. ;  and 
accordingly  we  left  Berlin  the  20th  of  this  month  for  the  trip.  It 
was  sooner  than  we  had  intended  to  start,  for  our  lectures  were 
not  finished  and  there  were  other  reasons  for  staying;  but  we 
were  all  getting  run  down,  we  could  not  study,  and  so  thought 
it  better  to  depart  from  that  city  of  pestilent  odors.  .  .   . 

I  knew,  when  you  wrote  me  about  leaving  Berlin  for  the 
summer,  that  it  was  not  healthy  there,  but  had  hardly  begun 
to  feel  it  in  the  air.  However,  it  will  not  be  so  another  summer, 
for  an  English  company  have  taken  a  contract  to  supply  the 
city  with  water  and  also  to  drain  it  properly,  building  the 
drains  —  all  of  which  are  now  on  the  surface  except  the  very 
largest  —  under  ground  and  conducting  fresh  water  thro' 
them  to  keep  them  clean.  That  is  German  enterprise,  to  let 
the  English  do  such  a  thing  for  the  public  use  and  good ! 

We  had  a  ride  of  a  few  hours  to  Stettin,  where  we  stayed  a 
day  looking  round  to  see  the  greatest  Prussian  port  where  the 
Prussian  navy  lies.  Such  miserable-looking  affairs  as  their 
vessels,  I  never  saw,  so  different  from  our  trim,  pretty-looking 
ones;  and  as  to  the  navy,  I  have  heard  that  they  have  two 
vessels.  We  saw  one  very  good-sized,  nice  steamship,  but  I 
do  not  believe  the  Prussians  ever  built  such  a  thing.  .  .  . 

My  last  was  pretty  strong  against  coming  home,  and  yet 
I  almost  think  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  as  you  wish.  Nothing  but 
the  future  advantages  could  induce  me  to  remain,  and  tho'  it 
may  seem  very  changeable  in  me  to  have  and  to  express  so 
many  and  so  different  opinions  on  one  subject,  yet  the  diffi- 
culty of  the  position  must  excuse  it.  One  day  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  and  would  stay  and  profit  very  much  by  the  advantages 
within  my  reach,  as  if  it  would  be  my  ruin  to  return  now. 
Another,  I  am  longing  to  get  back,  and  feel  as  if  no  earthly 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  71 

honor  or  pleasure,  no  hope  even  of  doing  more  for  the  good  of 
others  in  my  lifetime  than  is  possible  if  I  leave  the  advantages 
of  this  part  of  the  world  behind  me,  could  tempt  me  to  stay 
another  month  so  alone.  However,  send  your  decision  and  I 
will  act  upon  it  at  once,  one  way  or  the  other,  and  not  whine 
any  more.  .  .  . 

The  outing  at  Riigen  was  pleasant  enough.  He  tramped, 
loafed,  heard  a  good  deal  of  light  opera,  dined  and  danced 
with  some  agreeable  German  ladies,  and  saw  the  King  of 
Prussia  (the  "old  Kaiser"  of  later  fame).  "The  King  came; 
looked  very  tight ;  bowed  to  us  particularly ;  great  many  offi- 
cers, etc."  But  by  August  10  the  diary  notes:  "Nothing  par- 
ticular. Getting  on  in  life."  Evidently  it  was  time  to  move 
on,  and  two  days  later  he  bade  good-bye  to  Doctor  and  Mrs. 
Dexter,  went  back  to  Berlin  to  pack  up,  and  started  for  Paris. 
"Return  with  all  convenient  speed,"  his  father  was  writing, 
"in  order  that  you  may  place  yourself  under  the  influences  of 
the  Cambridge  worthies." 

Yet  the  boy  stayed  two  weeks  in  Paris,  "saw  a  great  deal," 
as  the  diary  indicates  in  detail,  and  found  the  city  "very  in- 
teresting indeed."  He  dined  with  French  officers,  called  upon 
such  Perkinses,  Lees,  and  Peabodys  as  happened  to  be  in 
Paris,  shopped  industriously  to  procure  gifts  for  his  family,1 
and  then  crossed  to  London  for  his  last  week,  sailing  for  home 
on  the  America  on  Saturday,  September  17,  1853.  "We  were 
fourteen  days  at  sea  precisely,"  says  the  diary.  "Rough,  un- 
comfortable weather.  One  pretty  English  girl  on  board.  Also 
a  very  pleasant  German  lady,  who  took  me  for  her  brother- 
in-law.  The  last  day  was  beautiful,  and  our  harbor  was  so, 
too.   Good-bye,  we  are  there." 

But  long,  long,  will  "the  Cambridge  worthies"  sit,  before 
they  see  anything  of  Henry  Higginson. 

1 "  If  you  once  begin  in  our  enormous  family,  where  can  you  end;  where  do 
you  wish  to  end  ?  "  he  had  written  in  boyish  despair  to  his  father. 


CHAPTER   III 

A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT 

A  period  of  ferment  for  all  of  us  young  people.  —  H.  L.  H.,  Reminiscences. 

The  next  three  years  are  best  summarized  in  the  words  that 
appear  at  the  head  of  this  chapter.  In  one  sense  it  is  the  old 
story  of  the  influence  of  an  entrancing,  fatal  Wander jahr. 
The  youth  returns  to  the  family  hearth-stone;  but  he  is  no 
longer  the  same  youth  who  went  away,  and  the  kinsfolk  whom 
he  finds  waiting  for  him  are  strangely  the  same  and  yet  not 
the  same  as  they  were  before.  Turgenev  has  painted  the  sit- 
uation once  for  all  in  "Fathers  and  Children,"  yet  each  gen- 
eration must  continue  to  discover  it  anew  in  its  own  expe- 
rience. The  inevitable  period  of  readjustment  need  not  be 
tragic,  as  in  Turgenev's  story.  Sometimes  it  is  smiling  or 
tearful  comedy,  and  often  it  may  be  diagnosed  as  "growing 
pains." 

To  understand  that  Bedford  Place  world  to  which  Henry 
Higginson  returned  in  the  autumn  of  1853,  we  must  be  allowed 
to  glance  back  at  the  family  correspondence  during  his  ab- 
sence. These  letters  will  reveal  the  characteristic  interests  of 
the  Higginson  household,  and  they  afford  some  pleasant 
glimpses  of  the  long-vanished  Boston  Town  of  1852  and  1853. 

An  affectionate  note  from  Henry's  aunt,  Harriet  Lee  Morse, 
—  his  mother's  sister,  —  written  from  Brookline  in  June,  1852, 
gives  a  charming  picture  of  the  England  she  had  wished  the 
boy  to  know. 

Brookline,  June  28,  1852. 
.  .  .  You  will  be  in  your  glory,  dear  Henry,  when  you  return 
to  England  and  really  travel  through  some  of  those  exquisite 
quiet  old  villages,  so  loved  by  dear  Miss  Mitford,  and  by  your 


A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT  73 

Mother  through  Miss  Mitford's  books;  just  think  of  the  lanes 
hedged  by  primroses  and  hawthorn,  and  a  fine  ruin  in  the  dis- 
tance overgrown  with  ivy;  and  then  again  coming  to  a  little 
serene-looking  village,  and  stopping  at  mine  host's  inn  and 
sleeping  in  sweet-scented  lavender  sheets.  Dear  Hen,  I  could 
almost  envy  you  when  I  think  of  your  continental  enjoyments; 
but  when  in  fancy  I  place  you  in  England  next  spring  just  as 
Isaak  Walton's  brooks  are  beginning  to  ripple  over  their 
sunny  beds,  and  all  nature  is  bursting  into  leaf  and  flower, 
then,  I  say,  I  really  long  to  be  with  you.  .  .  .  Do  not  forget  to 
leave  plenty  of  time  for  bonny  Old  England,  there  are  so  many 
thousand  scenes  of  interest  there  to  you  now,  and  still  more 
when  you  have  regained  your  eyes  in  future  years.  Explore 
Westmoreland,  where  is  Lake  Windermere,  where  Words- 
worth lived  and  wrote;  and  near  by  is  Fox  How  (don't  fail  to 
go  there),  the  retreat  and  rest  of  Dr.  Arnold,  one  of  the  best 
and  most  useful  men  this  sun  ever  shone  upon.  Then  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  teeming  with  interest  to  you,  and  every  other 
scholar.  .  .  . 

But  of  all  this  he  had  seen  nothing! 

Here  is  the  Harvard  Class  Day  of  1852,  described  by  faithful 
elder  brother  George,  aged  19,  who,  like  Henry  and  their 
intimate  friends,  William  Amory,  Stephen  Perkins,  and  "Jim" 
Savage,  —  and  their  older  acquaintance,  Francis  Parkman,  — 
is  now  having  serious  trouble  with  his  eyes :  — 

Brookline,  June  18,  1852. 
My  dear  Henry:  — 

.  .  .  Last  Friday  was  Class-day.  The  fellows  seemed  to  en- 
joy the  day  very  much.  It  is  said  to  be  the  largest  class  which 
has  ever  graduated  from  Harvard,  being  over  ninety  in  number 
when  they  parted.  They  have  not  lost  any  of  their  number  by 
death,  and  few  have  left  for  other  reasons.  Thayer  delivered  a 
fine  oration,  which  gratified  his  class  very  much,  and  William- 


74  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

son  wrote  a  good  poem,  which  he  was  unfortunately  prevented 
from  delivering  by  the  death  of  his  Mother.  Choate  of  Salem 
read  it  in  his  place.  The  Ode  was  written  by  Horatio  Alger, 
and  sung  tolerably  -well  by  the  class.  They  made  one  or  two 
changes,  which  I  think  was  a  mistake;  they  ran  but  once 
around  the  tree,  which  vexed  the  other  classes  very  much, 
particularly  the  Juniors,  who  thought  they  were  afraid  of  be- 
ing knocked  over  by  the  lower  classes.  They  also  made  another 
mistake,  in  cutting  down  the  wreath  of  flowers  instead  of 
jumping  for  it,  both  of  which  changes  rather  took  away  from 
the  excitement  of  the  scene. 

It  is  George,  likewise,  who  in  the  autumn  of  that  year  de- 
scribes with  due  solemnity  the  passing  of  Daniel  Webster. 

"...  You  will  see  by  the  papers  that  the  greatest  man  by 
far  that  our  country  has  been  able  to  boast  of,  since  the  time  of 
Washington,  has  finished  his  earthly  course.  Daniel  Webster 
died  at  Marshfield  on  the  morning  of  the  24th.  He  is  a  great 
loss  to  the  country  and  everyone  seems  to  feel  it.  The  city  is 
dressed  in  mourning  —  coaches,  shops  and  streets.  It  will  be  a 
long  time,  I  am  afraid,  before  we  shall  have  another  man  who 
will  do  so  much  good  to  the  Union  as  he  has ;  however,  he  has 
done  his  work  on  earth  faithfully,  and  it  is  not  possible  that 
such  a  person  should  be  always  with  us,  for  every  man  must 
die  some  time,  and  he  was  past  the  usual  age  of  man,  being 
more  than  seventy." 

In  November  the  Music  Hall  was  dedicated,  and  we  shall 
let  Frank  describe  the  great  event. 

Nov.  23,  1852. 

Dear  Henry:  — 

I  wish  you  could  have  been  here  at  the  opening  of  the  New 
Music  Hall  on  Saturday  evening.  Friday  evening  they  had  it 
open  to  subscribers.  Father  had  the  use  of  Uncle  Harry's 
tickets,  and  Mary  and  I  went  with  him  to  see  it.  It  is  a  splen- 
did Hall.  There  are  two  galleries.  It  is  lighted  in  a  new  manner 


A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT  75 

from  above  just  below  the  cornice  by  a  succession  of  gas-lights 
about  half  a  foot  apart  running  all  round  the  room;  for  the 
purpose  of  lighting  there  is  a  passage-way  round  between  the 
lights  and  the  outer  wall  for  one  man  only  to  pass.  The  seats 
are  very  comfortable  and  have  round  backs.  The  Organ  is  out 
of  sight  and  there  is  an  open  piece  of  work  in  front.  It  was 
opened  by  Madame  Alboni  and  there  was  an  Oratorio  Sun- 
day evening,  in  which  Madame  Sontag  sang.  The  dimensions 
are  130  long,  78  wide,  65  feet  high,  and  it  will  seat  about 
3000  people.  Aunt  Hatty  had  a  little  son  born  on  Thursday 
morning  which  was  your  birthday,  and  they  think  of  nam- 
ing him  Henry.1  I  saw  it  on  Sunday  and  it  looked  very 
queer.  .  .  . 

F.  L.  Higginson. 

But  it  is  brother  Jim,  just  turned  sixteen  in  June,  1852,  and 
already  a  music-lover  and  philosopher,  who  provides  the  most 
varied  and  delightful  comments  upon  what  is  going  on  during 
Henry's  absence.  James  is  greatly  worried,  at  first,  over 
Henry's  traveling  with  a  clergyman.  "Don't  let  him  [Mr. 
Eliot]  prevent  you  from  going  either  to  concerts  and  operas." 
By  August  it  was  evident  that  his  fears  on  this  head  were 
groundless.  "  I  am  glad  you  and  Mr.  Eliot  are  on  as  good  terms 
as  you  describe,  though  I  had  no  doubt  of  his  being  agreeable, 
etc.  His  religious  opinions  will  not  interfere  with  yours,  if 
indeed  you  have  any."  Then  he  turns  cheerfully  to  an  account 
of  the  Harvard- Yale  boat-race  of  1852,  on  Lake  Winnepe- 
saukee.  Yale  men  who  read  this  page  will  note  that  it  is  a 
future  President  of  the  Harvard  Club  of  New  York  who  is 
writing. 

"There  has  just  been  a  regatta  at  Lake  Winnipisiogee  be- 
tween the  Harvard  fellows  and  the  Yale  ditto.  There  were 
four  boats  present,  the  Oneida  of  Cambridge,  the  Shawmut 
and  Undine  both  of  Yale,  and  the  Atalanta  belonging  to  New 

1  Dr.  Henry  Lee  Morse. 


76  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

York,  but  manned  by  students  from  Yale.  The  last  one  pulls 
four  oars,  the  other  three  are  eight-oared  boats.  In  a  prelimi- 
nary trial,  \vIhich  was  had  on  the  morning  of  the  day  appointed 
for  the  race,  the  course  being  about  a  mile  and  a  half,  the 
boats  came  in  in  the  order  I  have  named  them  above,  the 
Oneida  distancing  the  Shawmut  by  about  eighty  feet.  At  the 
regular  trial  in  the  afternoon,  in  which  the  boats  were  to  pull 
up  the  bay  two  miles,  they  started  together  and  kept  so  for 
some  time;  but  afterwards  the  Oneida  shot  ahead  and  main- 
tained her  place,  coming  in  again  first,  and  was  very  heartily 
cheered  by  the  spectators  on  shore.  The  prize  was  a  handsome 
pair  of  black  walnut  oars,  ornamented  with  silver  tops,  etc. 
The  second  prize,  which  was  taken  by  the  Shawmut,  was  a 
silver-mounted  boat-hook.  I  hear  that  Charley  Paine  be- 
longed to  the  Oneida.  The  last  ten  strokes  of  her  crew  are 
said  to  have  been  very  powerful  ones.  You  can  imagine  them 
swearing  away,  while  they  almost  lift  their  boat  out  of  the 
water  at  each  stroke.  The  Yale  fellows,  I  hear,  had  been  prac- 
tising for  a  long  time,  in  expectation  of  the  contest,  before  they 
sent  their  invitation  to  the  Harvard  boys.  They  therefore  had 
the  advantage  in  that,  but  the  latter  were  heavier  men,  and  so 
gained  the  victory." 

Here  is  James  Higginson's  comment  on  the  Presidential 
nominations  of  1852: — 

"The  Whig  Presidential  nomination  has  been  made,  and 
Gen.  Scott  is  the  unhappy  man  fixed  upon.  The  Godlike 
Daniel  was  again  disappointed  in  his  hopes  and  expectations, 
though  his  friends  are  trying  to  console  his  wounded  pride  as 
much  as  possible.  Mr.  Fillmore  may  send  him  to  England, 
since  the  Hon.  Abbott  [Lawrence]  has  asked  to  be  recalled 
next  November.  Gen.  Pierce  is  the  other  candidate  [Demo- 
cratic] and  will  probably  be  elected,  for  Scott  at  present  seems 
to  stand  but  very  little  chance.  You  see  in  these  glorious  days, 
nothing  but  military  heroes  will  suit  the  people.  Henry  Clay 
has  just  breathed  his  last,  amidst  the  groans  and  lamentations 
of  an  affectionate  people,  as  the  papers  say." 


A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT  77 

In  the  same  letter,  July  II,  1852,  he  gives  his  elder  brother 
this  grave  warning:  'Don't  become  too  much  of  an  English- 
man, Henry;  they  are  very  well  in  their  way,  but  in  common 
with  other  people,  have  their  faults." 

But  he  does  not  neglect  local  matter  like  "  Bloody  Monday  " 
at  Harvard. 

"  I  shall  go  over  with  S n  Perkins,  if  he  will  go,  alone  if 

he  will  not,  to  see  the  football  match  on  the  memorable  Mon- 
day, the  6th  Sept.1  Don't  you  wish  you  could  be  there  to  tum- 
ble over  some  of  the  Sophomores  of  last  year.  Your  class  will 
of  course  beat.  The  Freshmen  who  were  examined  in  July  as  a 
class  do  not  look  very  promising,  I  hear  rather  sheepish  than 
otherwise." 

It  is  in  this  letter  that  he  refers  to  the  building  which  was 
soon  to  be  the  home  of  the  new  firm  of  Lee  and  Higginson: 
"The  new  building  in  Exchange  St.  is  progressing  rapidly  and 
promises  when  finished  to  be  quite  handsome  and  bear  the 
marks  of  the  Lee  taste." 

In  November  James  reports  the  result  of  the  Presidential 
contest. 

"The  Presidential  Election  has  taken  place,  and  Pierce  of 
New  Hampshire,  the  Democratic  Candidate,  has  been  chosen 
by  a  very  large  majority,  carrying  every  State  but  two.  .  .  . 
Poor  old  Scott !  The  only  thing  he  can  now  claim  is  to  being  — 
since  Wellington  is  dead — the  greatest  soldier  in  the  world.  If 
he  had  never  tried  to  be  anything  but  a  soldier,  his  reputation 
would  have  been  better." 

Then  he  passes  to  the  musical  and  theatrical  affairs  of 
Boston,  in  which  the  Higginson  boys  were  so  keenly  interested. 

"Madame  Sontag  has  made  her  debut  on  the  Boston  stage 
and  been  received  very  warmly ;  her  voice  is  said  to  possess  an 
exceeding  depth  of  pathos  and  sweetness.     Madame  Anna 

1  Charles  Lowell,  who  was  a  Junior,  wrote  to  Henry  a  full  description  of  this 
contest.  "Steph.  Perkins  was  on  the  ground  fighting  lazily,  and  I  observed  tuum 
fratrem  on  the  fence."  —  E.  W.  Emerson,  Life  and  Letters  of  Charles  Russell 
Lowell  (Boston,  1907),  p.  75. 


78  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Thillon  is  also  here,  at  the  Howard.  The  New  National 
Theatre  has  been  opened,  but  Leonard,  —  the  former  auction- 
eer, —  who  is  now  manager,  does  not  seem  to  have  a  very  good 
stock  company,  and  the  theatre  is  sinking  to  its  original  posi- 
tion. It  is  a  pity  we  should  not  have  some  good  permanent 
company  here.  At  present,  there  seems  to  be  no  chance  for  an 
opera  this  winter.  Bosio,  Bettini,  Truffi  and  husband  are  in 
Europe,  Badiali  is  singing  with  Sontag.  Perhaps  we  may  be 
able  to  have  one  before  the  season  is  through.  The  Musical 
Fund  and  Germanians  have  both  opened  their  subscription 
lists  in  this  city,  and  we  shall  no  doubt  have  a  continued 
stream  of  concerts." 

So  the  boy's  merry  letters  go  gossiping  along,  about  Mr. 
Abbott  Lawrence's  return  from  the  English  mission,  about 
Uncle  Harry  Lee's  presence  at  the  Duke  of  Wellington's 
funeral,  and  the  coup  d'etat  of  Louis  Napoleon.  In  February, 
1853,  he  goes  into  rhapsodies  over  Madame  Alboni's  "glorious 


voice. 


"  Nobody  looked  or  thought  of  her  figure,  only  her  beautiful 
face,  beaming  with  the  sunniest  and  most  unaffected  smiles 
that  ever  were  seen.  ...  I  never  heard  such  tremendous  ap- 
plause in  my  life.  .  .  .  The  Germanians  brought  out  a  new 
symphony  of  Beethoven  last  Saturday  evening,  the  first  time 
it  has  ever  been  performed  in  this  country.  Dwight,  I  believe, 
says  it  was  very  fine,  beautiful,  etc.,  but  no  doubt  most  of  the 
audience  thought  it  terribly  dull." 

He  quizzes  Henry  over  his  friendship  with  the  Motleys. 

"We  are  glad  to  hear  that  our  respected  brother  is  on  an 
intimate  footing  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lothrop  Motley.  Can't 
you  aid  him  in  his  history,  that  history  which  for  so  many  years 
has  been  preparing?  ...  It  will  no  doubt  be  so  valuable  that 
its  chances  for  a  rapid  sale  are  about  equal  to  those  of  Jeremy 
Taylor's  'Tracts  and  Sermons.'  " 

But  the  "Dutch  Republic,"  it  is  now  quite  unnecessary  to 
say,  outsold  Jeremy  Taylor! 


A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT  79 

James  Higginson's  last  letter  to  his  brother,  in  July,  1853, 
combats  with  fierce  affection  a  plan  which  was  already,  it 
seems,  in  Henry's  mind,  and  which  he  was  later  to  carry  out. 

' '  Young  German,  for  that  is  the  title  by  which  I  shall  here- 
after designate  you  if  you  still  determine  to  make  Germany 
your  fatherland,  why  were  you  so  foolish  as  to  write  a  (private) 
letter  of  such  enormous  length  to  your  father  on  the  subject  of 
staying  on  the  Continent  for  a  term  of  three  or  more  years,  in 
spite  of  the  voice  of  reason,  which  tells  you,  or  ought  to  tell 
you,  that  such  a  course  would  be  ruinous  to  you  hereafter,  as 
you  would  find  that  you  had  no  contemporaries.  ...  I  vow 
perhaps  you  had  better  spend  all  your  life  there,  marry  a  Ger- 
man girl,  and  never  come  over  the  broad  ocean  to  revisit  your 
friends  and  former  home.  I  '11  cut  you  if  you  do,  never  come  to 
see  you  as  long  as  you  live.  .  .  .  This  will  be  my  last  letter  to 
you,  old  fellow,  unless  you  come  home." 

A  few  lines  from  Henry's  little  sister  "Molly"  must  com- 
plete the  family  correspondence  of  this  eventful  year.  Mary 
contents  herself  at  first  with  describing  Uncle  Harry  Lee's  new 
house  in  Brookline,  and  asking  such  delightfully  inconsecutive 
questions  as:  "Have  you  seen  the  Queen  or  any  of  her  child- 
ren?  Have  you  heard  how  sick  Sarah  Cabot  is?  " 

By  October  Mary,  who  is  now  fourteen,  is  permitted  to  at- 
tend a  Harvard  "Exhibition."  "You  asked  me  to  tell  any- 
thing that  may  come  into  my  head,  so  I  am  doing  it  now.  I 
went  to  Cambridge  the  other  day  with  George.  It  was  Exhibi- 
tion day,  and  Charley  Lowell,  James  Pierce,  young  Mr.  Davis, 
Sylvester  Waterhouse,  Charles  Bancroft,  that  handsome 
pleasant  young  man  cousin  of  Wilder  Dwight,  Wilder  Dwight, 
and  I  don't  remember  the  others,  spoke.  I  enjoyed  it  very 
much  indeed." 

By  February  she  writes:  "  I  shall  have  my  ears  bored  pretty 
soon  and  I  want  you  to  bring  me  a  pretty  pair  of  ear-rings. 
Father  is  willing.  Ella  Lowell  told  me  that  in  Rome  they  wore 
a  great  deal  of  jewelry  and  that  it  was  very  pretty  and  very 


80  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

cheap.  So  if  you  go  there  you  might  look  out  for  some.  But  it 
is  no  sort  of  matter,  for  Paris  or  any  other  place  will  do  just  as 
well." 

Her  father,  always  anxious  about  the  epistolary  style  of 
his  children,  adds  this  characteristic  postscript:  "  M.  has  made 
various  attempts  with  this  affair  —  yet  it  is  full  of  errors.  I 
send  it,  simply  to  show  you  what  she  desires  to  offer  by  way  of 
remembrance  of  you.  When  it  has  performed  its  office,  put  it 
into  your  fireplace,  for  I  would  not  have  it  kept." 

But  Henry  kept  it  till  his  death. 

And  here  he  was,  at  last,  back  in  Bedford  Place,  with  his 
presents  for  all  of  the  family,  and  his  stories  of  the  Strahleck 
Pass  and  the  Dresden  police  and  Berlin  and  Paris;  with  his  first 
beard,  too,  for  he  was  almost  nineteen,  and  this  is  the  Penden- 
nis  and  George  Warrington  era.1  He  was  loyal  and  affection- 
ate, as  always,  but,  like  Bazaroff  in  "Fathers  and  Children," 
he  did  not  quite  fit  in  with  the  Bedford  Place  scheme  of  things. 
He  had  intellectual  ambitions,  as  we  have  seen,  but  he  had 
fallen  out  of  step  with  the  Cambridge  men.  His  Harvard  class- 
mates were  now  Juniors.  He  could  no  longer  hope  to  make  up 
his  studies  and  rejoin  them;  nor  could  he  be  allowed  to  enter, 
like  Stephen  Perkins,  the  Sophomore  class  of  1856.  Unwilling 
to  start  over  again  as  a  Freshman,  he  asked  his  father's  per- 
mission to  pursue  studies  with  Mr.  Samuel  Eliot,  —  a  cousin  of 
Charles  W.  Eliot,  —  who  was  then  taking  private  pupils  in  his 
house  in  Louisburg  Square.  "He  took  great  pains  with  me, 
and  I  worked  very  hard  under  his  care,"  said  the  pupil.  These 
lessons  lasted  about  a  year  and  a  half. 

"He  continued,"  notes  Mrs.  Higginson,  "friendly  relations 

1  Thackeray  had  been  lecturing  in  Boston  in  January,  1853.  Here  is  the  account 
of  it  written  by  George  Higginson,  Sr.,  to  Henry.  "We  have  all  been  very  much 
entertained  and  delighted  by  a  course  of  lectures  which  Thackeray  of  Pendennis 
memory  —  now  on  a  visit  to  our  shores  —  has  just  given  us,  portraying  the  pri- 
vate lives  and  characters  of  some  of  the  noted  writers  and  evils  of  Queen  Anne's 
times  and  later  —  beginning  with  Dean  Swift  and  ending  with  Sterne  and  Gold- 
smith. His  audiences  were  large  and  intelligent,  and  doubtless  very  pleasing  to 
himself.    I  never  listened  to  a  course  with  more  pleasure." 


A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT  81 

with  his  classmates,  passing  much  of  his  time  at  Mrs.  Lowell's, 
the  mother  of  Charles  Lowell,  and  joining  all  the  sociable  life  of 
the  young  people  in  Cambridge,  which  centred  in  Mrs.  Lowell's 
house.  There  were  private  theatricals,  sometimes  in  German, 
there  was  a  delightful  German  class,  and  there  were  readings 
which  finished  with  a  delightful  social  gathering  in  the  evening. 
He  belonged  to  a  singing  society,  'The  Orpheus,'  and  also  to 
a  private  singing  club  in  Boston,  and  often  went  to  James 
Savage's  room  in  Holworthy,  where  there  was  much  informal 
singing  and  music." 

Nothing  could  be  more  agreeable  than  all  this,  but  it  was 
obvious  that  time  was  passing,  and  that  Henry  would  soon  be 
twenty-one.  Mr.  George  Higginson  now  appears  upon  the 
scene.  Henry  had  had  eighteen  months  at  home,  and  there  was 
apparently  very  little  to  show  for  it.  Surely  the  calling  of 
"a  merchant"  —  whatever  George  Higginson  may  have  said 
against  it  —  was  much  better  than  no  profession  at  all.  And 
here  the  Reminiscences  take  up  the  story :  — 

In  March,  1855,  my  father  secured  for  me  a  place  in  the 
office  of  Messrs.  Samuel  and  Edward  Austin,  India  merchants 
on  India  Wharf,  and  there  I  served  nineteen  months  as  sole 
clerk  and  bookkeeper.  I  enjoyed  the  life  with  them,  did  the 
work  to  their  satisfaction,  attended  to  the  correspondence  and 
the  cash,  kept  the  bank  accounts,  wrote  copies  of  the  foreign 
letters,  examined  the  invoices,  entered  all  the  goods  in  the 
Custom  House,  made  out  the  bills  and  collected  them.  Of 
course  all  the  financial  operations  they  themselves  made,  in 
securing  letters  of  credit,  buying  remittances,  chartering  ships, 
etc.  We  had  a  ship  a  month,  the  goods  coming  from  Calcutta, 
Manila,  Java,  and  Australia.  At  the  end  of  my  time  of  service 
with  them  I  received  their  recommendation  as  having  satisfied 
them,  and  a  recommendation  to  go  to  India  under  the  employ 
of  a  friend  who  had  a  large  business  there ;  but  he  did  not  want 
me,  and  I  did  not  want  to  go. 


82  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

During  all  that  time  I  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  certain  class- 
mates, and  a  great  deal  of  my  friends,  Stephen  Perkins,  Charles 
Lowell,  James  Savage,  and  many  others.  We  had  walked  and 
talked  together,  discussed  all  sorts  of  problems,  been  deeply 
interested  in  many  things  —  and  they  had  plenty  of  new  ideas. 
Charles  Lowell  and  Stephen  Perkins  were  among  the  most 
brilliant  men  I  ever  have  known — very  thoughtful,  and  fond  of 
taking  up  everything  and  discussing  it  from  the  bottom  —  not 
content  with  the  affairs  of  this  world,  being  what  one  now 
would  call  real  reformers  or  radicals,  and  measuring  everything 
by  their  own  footrule.   The  slavery  questions  were  more  and 
more  important  at  that  time,  and  the  question  of  Kansas  came 
up.  Men  were  sent  to  Kansas  and  Nebraska  to  keep  the  States 
out  of  Slavery.  Frank  Sanborn,  who  was  in  our  class,  had  gone 
out  and  reported  as  to  how  things  looked  there,  and  I  wanted 
to  go,  but  he  said  it  was  useless  to  go  unless  I  proposed  to  live 
there. 

I  had  had  two  ventures  in  indigo,  which  were  allowed  while 
I  was  in  the  office,  and  the  result  of  the  first  was  spent  in 
equipping  a  good-looking  Irishman  with  his  family  to  go  to 
Kansas  and  settle.  I  fitted  him  out  with  clothes  and  arms,  and 
he  started  off,  got  as  far  as  Albany,  sent  his  family  adrift,  and 
went  elsewhere. 

During  all  this  time  I  used  to  go  into  society  a  good  deal, 
went  to  the  parties,  made  many  acquaintances,  saw  many 
girls,  with  whom  I  made  friends  and  who  added  very  much  to 
the  happiness  of  my  life.  I  used  to  do  figures  all  day  long  in 
examining  fresh  sets  of  invoices,  and  I  remember  saying  to  Mr. 
Edward  Austin — who  was  very  bright — one  day  something 
about  future  employment.  He  asked  me  what  I  wanted  to  do, 
and  I  said  I  did  not  know ;  that  work  on  the  wharf  did  not  seem 
to  me  to  require  any  mind;  that  I  wanted  something  which 
would  use  my  mind  and  would  give  me  a  chance  to  take  hold  of 
life  more  seriously.  He  muttered:  "I  guess  when  you  have 
some  notes  to  pay,  you  will  find  that  your  mind  is  busy 
enough";  which  struck  me  as  true. 


A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT  83 

It  was  a  period  of  ferment  for  all  of  us  young  people.  I  was 
wild  about  slavery  and  anti-slavery,  did  not  like  the  Aboli- 
tionists, could  not  bear  the  disgrace  to  our  country  of  slavery, 
believed  that  we  should  have  sooner  or  later  a  great  struggle, 
and  that  we  should  get  rid  of  it  in  some  way.  At  that  time 
several  fugitive  slaves  in  Boston  were  taken  and  sent  back 
under  the  Fugitive  Slave  Act,  which  Mr.  Webster  had  helped 
pass,  being  merely  a  strengthening  of  a  law  which  had  stood 
for  many  years.  A  slave-owner  had  a  right  to  come  anywhere  in 
the  North  and  seize  a  man  who  had  been  his  slave  and  had  run 
away,  and  the  Federal  authorities  were  obliged  to  take  that 
man  back.  It  happened  two  or  three  times  in  Boston  that  these 
cases  arose,  and  the  last  one  was  the  case  of  Anthony  Burns. 
The  whole  matter  busied  our  town  for  some  days;  the  Court 
House  was  surrounded  with  chains,  some  of  the  militia  com- 
panies were  called  out,  and  eventually  a  body  of  marines  from 
the  Navy  Yard — a  body  of  prize-fighters  and  bar-tenders  — 
were  put  right  around  the  negro  Burns,  and  several  of  our 
militia  companies  marched  with  them  in  order  that,  if  at- 
tacked, there  should  be  no  rescue.  Charles  Lowell  and  I  saw 
the  man  put  on  board  the  ship  and  carried  off,  and  we  swore 
that  that  thing  should  be  redressed,  and  it  was.1 

Our  class  graduated  in  1855  and  let  me  partake  in  the 
festivities  of  Class  Day  and  Commencement,  for  I  had  many 
friends  there.  After  another  year  of  work  in  the  office  on  the 
wharf,  I  wished  much  to  go  abroad.  Charles  Lowell  had 
broken  down  and  had  been  sent  abroad,  and  I  proposed  to 
join  him.  Stephen  Perkins  and  Powell  Mason  were  going  with 
me,  and  we  sailed  about  the  first  of  November.  At  that  time  I 
had  inherited  about  $13,000  from  an  old  uncle  who  had  just 
died,  and  I  expected  to  live  on  the  interest  of  that. 

Samuel  and  Edward  Austin,  who  gave  Henry  Higginson  his 
first  training  in  business,  were  old-fashioned  shipping  mer- 

1  Henry's  words  were:  "Charley,  it  will  come  to  us  to  set  this  right."  —  E.  W. 
Emerson,  op.  cit.,  p.  8. 


84  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

chants  at  34  India  Wharf.  Some  of  their  characteristics  are 
vividly  painted  in  letters  from  Henry  to  his  father  after  the 
death  of  the  senior  partner,  in  1858. 

Vienna,  Oct.  19,  1858. 
Mr.  Sam  Austin  too  is  gone.  I  'd  expected  to  hear  that 
pretty  soon,  but  not  immediately.  I  had  a  letter  to  him 
in  hand,  half  written;  it  is  the  second,  the  first  having  been 
burned  as  unsatisfactory  to  me.  Mr.  Charles  Sumner,  who  was 
here  last  week,  told  me  that  his  trouble  was  in  the  kidneys,  of 
which  I  've  no  conception  or  understanding.  Mr.  Austin  was  a 
tolerably  happy  man,  I  should  say,  tho'  not  especially  desirous 
of  living,  or  of  dying  either,  perhaps.  As  I  've  often  told  you, 
they  were  both  curious  men;  they  liked  to  make  money,  and 
did  not  like  to  lose  it;  yet  it  caused  them  no  particular  pleasure 
in  the  one  case,  and  certainly  no  real  pain,  or  even  vexation,  in 
the  other.  You  could  never  have  told,  when  Mr.  Edward 
looked  at  the  balance  at  the  foot  of  an  account  sales  of  a  cargo 
and  of  the  a/c  current  with  Mr.  Bowditch,  you  could  never 
have  told  whether  it  was  to  his  debit  or  credit ;  and  the  same  of 
his  brother.  He  used  to  express  annoyance  at  remissness  in 
forwarding  a/cs  and  remittances;  and  they  both  were  vexed  by 
disobedience  to  express  orders  to  their  agents  or  at  cheating; 
but  farther  than  that  their  tempers  were  astonishingly  even, 
As  masters  they  were  perfectly  easy  to  satisfy;  regularity, 
punctuality,  thoughtfulness,  accuracy,  obedience  (to  the  spirit 
not  to  the  letter),  use  of  one's  common  sense  was  all  that  was 
required.  In  return  one  was  treated  like  a  gentleman,  no 
questions  asked;  interest  in  one's  affairs  and  consideration  for 
one's  feelings  and  wishes,  a  desire  to  help  and  not  to  keep  down 
the  clerk,  was  always  shown.  And  what  always  struck  me 
agreeably,  they  were  both  quite  willing  to  be  proved  wrong; 
many  a  time  I  have  shown  Mr.  Edward  this  or  that  little  error 
in  statistics  or  other  things,  where  he'd  forgotten,  and  where  it 
was  my  business  to  know ;  the  correction  always  was  accepted 


A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT  85 

with  perfect  courtesy,  and,  last  but  not  least,  an  entire  trust  in 
my  truth  and  honor.  .  .  . 

And  he  wrote  again  on  March  30,  1 859 :  — 

Mr.  E.  A.  is  a  knowing,  cool  merchant;  I  used  to  think  him 
sometimes  better  than  his  brother.  I  never  saw  -such  entire 
self-possession;  no  fall,  no  rise,  no  loss,  no  gain,  no  misfortune, 
no  difficulty,  no  man,  nothing  could  disturb  his  imperturbabil- 
ity. He  was  always  ready  to  yield  to  Mr.  Bowditch,  always 
ready  to  correct  a  mistake,  very  energetic,  a  perfect  man  to 
work  for  because  one  always  knew  what  was  expected,  never 
angry  at  errors,  always  ready  to  give  explanations  and  advice, 
and  the  latter  was  so  good.  For  instance  my  order  to  India  on 
coming  here;  I  knew  that  indigo  was  scarce  at  home,  and  was 
going  to  be  scarce  in  Bengal,  and  therefore  judged  it  safe  for 
an  operation  within  limits;  but  should  have  probably  done 
nothing  without  his  advice  on  the  subject,  so  readily  and 
clearly  given.  He  looked  at  the  matter  and  said  "Yes." 
Prime  man.  He  could  make  a  million  now,  if  he  wanted  to  do  so. 

It  is  pleasant  to  add  here  a  letter  from  the  junior  partner, 
written  to  his  former  clerk  during  the  Civil  War.  Mr.  Edward 
Austin  is  remembered  in  State  Street  as  an  old  gentleman  of 
somewhat  severe  aspect,  who  "  looked  as  if  he  wanted  to  knock 
you  down  with  the  stick  he  was  carrying" ;  but  though  only  a 
graduate  of  the  "Campaigns  of  Gunny  Bags  and  Saltpetre," 
his  views  of  soldiership  and  his  loyalty  to  the  Union  must  have 
comforted  the  young  Major  to  whom  the  letter  is  addressed. 

Boston,  April  11  [1863]. 
My  dear  Sir:  — 

I  have  your  very  interesting  note  of  5th  inst.,  for  which  am 
much  obliged.  I  regret  very  much  not  seeing  you  when  you 
were  here.    If  I  had  known  that  you  were  in  town,  I  should 


86  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

have  done  myself  the  pleasure  to  have  called  upon  you.  It 
gives  me  much  satisfaction  to  find  that  you  did  not  leave  your 
men  to  go  into  the  2d.  merely  to  be  advanced  a  grade.  I  cannot 
conceive  anything  more  detrimental  to  the  discipline  of  a  Regi- 
ment than  for  its  officers  to  want  that  esprit  de  corps  which 
binds  them  to  it  in  every  other  service.  Every  new  officer  has 
his  ideas  of  discipline,  and  when  often  changed,  the  men  get 
disheartened.  You  are  perfectly  right  in  your  remarks  as  to 
men.  First  of  all,  the  elements  of  all  Trades  are  to  be  learned, 
i.e.,  its  tools,  be  they  accounts  or  guns  and  muskets;  but  the 
mistake  which  is  made  in  all  professions  is  that  the  graduate 
who  has  learned  but  the  names  conceives  that  he  is  master 
of  his  Trade.  The  graduate  at  Cambridge  thinks  himself  a 
scholar,  of  West  Point  a  General,  and  from  the  counting-room, 
a  merchant.  Now,  one  in  a  million  of  these  graduates  really 
proves  that  Providence  has  given  him  brains  to  at  once  com- 
mand after  preliminary  study;  for  the  remainder,  nothing  but 
hard  and  constant  work  will  ever  bring  out  success.  Napoleon 
was  a  genius;  the  Duke  of  Wellington  a  hard  and  patient 
worker,  and  I  have  never  known  a  hard  and  constant  worker 
in  any  profession — with  average  brains — that  did  not  stand 
above  his  fellows. 

To  take  the  conceit  out  of  a  man,  give  him  a  responsible 
situation,  and  see  what  he  will  do.  We  have  had  examples 
enough  during  this  war,  Heaven  knows.  The  clever  men  do 
not  seem  to  have  been  found  in  the  right  place,  but  I  have 
firm  faith  in  the  army  —  there  may,  and  must  be,  mistakes, 
but  in  the  long  run  it  must  be  successful.  Do  you  know  that  I 
envy  the  young  men  who  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  start  in 

life  with  such  an  object  as  yours?  All  the  property  I  have, 
and  ten  times  more,  if  I  had  it,  would  I  give  for  the  chance  to 
distinguish  myself  in  such  a  cause.  My  Campaigns  were  Gunny 
Bags  and  Saltpetre. 

The  "Union  Club"  not  only  admits  "Army  men"  but 
makes  much  of  them,  and  you  may  be  sure — as  well  as  your 


A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT  87 

friends — of  not  only  a  hearty  welcome  but  to  become  mem- 
bers whenever  you  desire  it.  I  send  you  Everett's  oration  to  us 
upon  our  first  meeting. 

Pray  let  me  hear  from  you  as  often  as  you  have  leisure.  If 
you  meet  Lieutenant  (who  ought  to  have  by  right  been 
Captain)  Bowditch,  give  him  my  kind  regards  —  he  is  a 
promising  young  man. 

Very  truly  yours, 

Ed.  Austin. 
Major  H.  L.  Higginson 
2d  Mass.  Cavalry. 

Of  political  ferment,  between  1853  and  1856,  there  was 
surely  enough.  The  Burns  case  has  been  so  fully  described  in 
Charles  F.  Adams's  "Life  of  R.  H.  Dana"  and  in  Thomas 
Wentworth  Higginson's  "Cheerful  Yesterdays,"  that  it  needs 
no  further  comment  here.  But  no  one  can  forget  the  picture  of 
the  two  shame-stricken  Boston  boys,  Higginson  and  Lowell, 
among  the  crowd  of  20,000  that  followed  the  last  fugitive 
slave  captured  in  Massachusetts,  as  the  mob  swept  down 
State  Street  to  Long  Wharf  on  June  2,  1854.  "Charley,  it  will 
come  to  us  to  set  this  right."  But  how? 

One  solution  of  the  insoluble  problem  was  then  thought  to 
be  possible  through  the  emigration  of  Free  Soil  men  to  Kansas. 
As  late  as  September,  1856,  Charles  Lowell  wrote  from  Vevey 
to  Henry:  "Are  you  going  to  Kansas?  You  'd  better,  I  think, 
unless  things  look  brighter."  The  zeal  for  a  free  Kansas  was 
shared  by  Henry's  brother  James,  who  in  1856  was  a  Junior  at 
Harvard.  He  had  attended  for  a  while  the  well-known  school 
in  Concord  taught  by  young  Frank  B.  Sanborn,  one  of  Henry's 
classmates  in  Cambridge,  and  was  still  fond  of  spending  his 
spare  time  in  Concord.  George  Higginson's  sons  had  now 
come  into  a  small  inheritance,  and  the  following  letter  shows 
James's  ideas  on  investing  it. 


88  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Concord,  June  23  [1856]. 
...  I  want  you,  Henry,  to  give  a  hundred  dollars  with  me 
to  that  Kansas  Committee  —  each  give  that  amount,  I  mean. 
Two  hundred  to  $800,  Reeder  said,  was  enough  to  support  a 
man  there  for  one  year.  It  will  be  some  comfort  to  think  that 
we  were  doing  something  towards  helping  make  Kansas  a  free 
state  —  and  money  after  all  is  not  much  to  give.  Men  are  what 
they  want.  Why  don't  you  go  out  there?  I  should  feel  might- 
ily like  going  if  I  were  out  of  college.  That's  a  safe  proviso 
perhaps,  but  really  I  would  like  to  go  for  a  year  or  more  and  do 
what  I  could — not  to  settle  there,  however.  Should  n't  fancy 
that  at  all.  But  for  giving  that  money,  what  do  you  think 
about  it?  I  won't  press  you  hard,  for  I  know  you  will  need 
your  income  (don't  that  sound  grandly  for  a  little  amount  like 
S300  or  $400  a  year)  much  sooner  than  I  shall  mine,  either  for 
business  or  other  purposes,  so  that  it  might  be  a  real  sacrifice 
to  you,  if  not  an  imprudent  expenditure,  while  it  would  not 
make  much  difference  to  me,  for  I  shall  not  need  mine  —  ex- 
cept perhaps  to  live  on,  and  even  then  what  would  a  hundred 
dollars  more  or  less  be  —  for  two  or  three  years.  I  hope  you 
will  think  about  it  and  tell  me.  I  have  no  doubt  you  feel  as 
much  interest  as  I  do  in  the  affair,  so  won't  say  anything  more 
about  that.  I  can't  draw  mine,  you  see,  as  you  can  yours,  and 
it  is  rather  doubtful  whether  Father  will  give  me  any.  I 
threatened  in  a  letter  I  wrote  to  him  yesterday  to  borrow  it  of 
some  friend,  if  he  did  not  send  it  along.  .   .  . 

A  later  letter  shows  the  attempt  to  enlist  the  support  of 
Harvard  undergraduates.  It  may  safely  be  hazarded  that 
President  Walker  did  not  approve  of  the  proposed  meeting! 

Concord,  Sept.  7th,  1856. 
Dear  Henry,  — 

Sanborn  asked  me  to  tell  you  that  there  is  to  be  a  Kansas 
meeting  at  Cambridge  on  Wednesday  evening  next,  at  which 


A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT  89 

he  will  be  —  and  wants  you  to  come  out  there  if  possible,  so 
that  he  may  see  you  and  have  a  chance  to  tell  you  about  his 
journey  to  the  West,  which  he  says  he  promised  to  do  before  he 
started.  So  come  along  there  and  you  will  enjoy  it,  I  have  no 
doubt.  I  don't  know  who  presides.  James  was  invited  to,  but 
declined  on  the  plea  that  he  never  presided  at  political  meet- 
ings of  any  kind.  Sanborn  says  he  thinks  there  will  be  a  good 
deal  of  enthusiasm.  James  has  promised  a  subscription  and 
Jennison  the  same,  to  be  made  at  the  meeting,  I  suppose. 

Then  there  are  to  be  subscription  lists  passed  round  on 
Thursday  among  the  fellows,  who  I  hope  will  come  out  well. 
I  am  going  down  on  Wednesday  myself  to  see  to  the  matter  in 
my  own  class. 

However,  you  come  out  there  on  Wednesday  and  we  will  see 
about  all  these  things.  The  meeting  will  probably  be  at  Ly- 
ceum Hall.  Yrs.  truly, 

J.  J.  Higginson. 

John  Brown's  fight  at  Ossawatomie  against  the  Border  Ruf- 
fians had  taken  place  one  week  earlier,  on  August  30.  "There 
will  be  no  more  peace  in  this  land  until  slavery  is  done  for," 
said  "old  Brown,"  as  he  watched  with  streaming  eyes  the 
flames  of  burning  Ossawatomie.  "I  will  give  them  something 
else  to  do  than  to  extend  slave  territory.  I  will  carry  the  war 
into  Africa."  But  the  young  enthusiasts  of  Concord  and 
Cambridge  were  not  ready  for  this  —  as  yet. 

One  sentence  in  the  Reminiscences  of  this  period  has  a  touch 
of  wistfulness :  "Our  class  graduated  in  1855  and  let  me  partake 
of  the  festivities  of  Class  Day  and  Commencement,  for  I  had 
many  friends  there."  His  little  bundle  of  Harvard  souvenirs, 
kept  religiously  for  more  than  sixty  years,  contains  all  the 
programmes  of  the  Commencement  of  his  class,  marked  "Our 
Class  Day,  1855."  Here  is  a  ticket  admitting  "a  Gentleman 
and  Ladies  to  the  Exercises  in  the  Chapel  and  Dance  in  Har- 
vard Hall " ;  a  penciled  list  of  Class  officers;  and  the  formidable 


90  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

"Order  of  Exercises  for  Commencement,"  with  titles  of  thirty- 
nine  "Essays,"  "Disquisitions,"  "Dissertations,"  and  "Ora- 
tions," culminating  in  the  two  "parts,"  —  bracketed  as  indi- 
cating that  the  highest  honors  for  scholarship  were  divided  in 
that  year,  —  "An  Oration,  'The  Man  of  Purpose,' "  by  Robert 
Treat  Paine  of  Boston,  and  "An  Oration,  '  Immature  Author- 
ship and  Premature  Publication,'"  by  Francis  Channing 
Barlow  of  Cambridge.  Paine  was  one  of  Henry  Higginson's 
cousins,  and  "Frank"  Barlow  —  not  yet  a  major-general  — 
was  a  warm  friend.  Phillips  Brooks,  it  may  be  noticed,  de- 
livered a  Dissertation  on  "  Rabaut,  the  Protestant  Preacher" ; 
Alexander  Agassiz,  a  Disquisition  on  "Goethe  as  a  Man 
of  Science,"  and  F.  B.  Sanborn  an  Oration  on  "The  School- 
master of  the  Future"  —  curious  foreshadowings  of  the  future 
of  the  three  boys.  One  cannot  tell  what  the  unlucky  "some- 
time member"  —  so  full  of  sentiment,  of  secret  ambition  for 
self-development  and  for  service  —  really  felt  as  he  listened  to 
all  this  eloquence,  or  whether  he  listened  to  it  at  all.  But  one 
cannot  help  hoping  that  he  recalled  a  certain  ancient  fable 
about  a  hare  and  a  tortoise. 

For  Henry  Higginson,  as  everyone  knows  now,  was  destined 
ultimately  to  "arrive."  He  was  a  type-specimen  of  the  slowly 
developing  Anglo-Saxon,  uncertain  of  himself,  unconscious  of 
his  deepest  motives,  unaware  as  yet  of  his  true  aim.  In  the 
autumn  of  1856,  when  he  "wished  to  go  abroad  "  again,  he  was 
almost  twenty- two ;  vigorous  in  body,  inquisitive  and  tenacious 
of  facts,  with  some  training  in  mercantile  affairs,  yet  dis- 
satisfied with  "trade"  as  a  livelihood.  His  chief  pleasures 
were  in  music  and  in  the  society  of  a  few  young  men  of  his  own 
age  and  social  circumstances.  He  felt  that  he  was  a  "radical," 
in  one  of  the  most  conservative  communities  in  the  United 
States;  but  Charles  Lowell  and  Stephen  Perkins  and  James 
Savage  were  "radical"  likewise,  perceiving  vaguely  that  the 
times  were  out  of  joint,  and  ignorant  as  yet  of  any  practicable 
method  of  setting  them  right. 


A  PERIOD  OF  FERMENT  91 

He  had  absorbed  a  great  deal  of  the  Emersonian  doctrine 
of  individualism,  and  was  soon  to  keep  over  his  desk  a  picture 
of  the  Concord  seer.  He  had  marked  independence  of  judg- 
ment, and  clung  pertinaciously  to  his  conclusions.  Yet  his 
family  affection  and  tribal  loyalty  ran  warm.  He  had  a  whim- 
sical appreciation  of  the  Higginson  and  Lee  characteristics, 
and  could  be  a  sharp  critic,  not  only  of  inherited  foibles,  but  of 
petty  matters  like  his  sister's  spelling,  and  his  brothers'  care- 
lessness in  school,  and  his  father's  choice  of  ink  and  writing- 
paper.  He  had,  in  fact,  a  streak  of  his  father's  fastidiousness, 
and  it  might  have  grown  into  priggishness  if  "  Bully  Hig"  had 
been  anything  of  a  prig.  But  he  was  not.  In  general,  he  was 
singularly  tolerant,  for  a  young  Bostonian  of  his  day.  His 
anger  blazed  against  "cool  cheating,"  and  like  Henry  Field- 
ing, he  thought  it  worse  than  any  sins  of  the  flesh.  "Nothing 
like  an  open  game  on  this  earth,"  he  exclaims  in  one  of  his 
youthful  letters. 

In  his  personal  habits  he  was  then,  as  always,  a  Puritan. 
In  deference  to  his  father  and  mother,  he  could  sit  decorously 
in  the  family  pew  in  the  gallery  of  King's  Chapel.  But  at 
heart  he  disliked  liturgies,  and  preferred  solitary  reading  of  his 
Bible  to  churchgoing.  If  he  had  any  deep  passion,  at  twenty- 
two,  it  was  the  passion  for  friendship,  for  "the  manly  love  of 
comrades,"  so  often  denied  to  the  cold  New  England  tempera- 
ment. Henry  Higginson  had  what  Emerson  and  Thoreau  de- 
scribed and  yearned  for,  without  ever  quite  possessing  —  a 
strong  natural  affection  for  other  men.  His  night-long  talks 
with  "Johnny"  Bancroft  and  Stephen  Perkins  and  Charles 
Lowell  taught  him  more  than  a  university  could  teach,  and  he 
kept  fresh,  until  he  was  more  than  eighty,  this  adolescent 
capacity  for  interest  in  new  persons.  He  rarely  lost  an  old 
friendship,  and  he  was  forever  forging  new  ones.  Both  early 
and  late  in  life,  he  was  "splenetic  and  rash"  in  passing  judg- 
ment upon  individuals;  but  these  hasty  decisions,  for  the  most 
part,  had  to  do  with  persons  whom  he  did  not  really  know.  To 


92  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

his  true  comrades  he  was  like  a  lover.  "Wherever  you  are," 
said  Stephen  Perkins  to  him  once,  "there  is  a  hearth  and  roses 
bloom." 

When  he  sailed  for  Europe  with  Powell  Mason  and  Stephen 
Perkins  in  November,  1856,  his  most  obvious  reason  for  going 
was  that  Charles  Lowell  was  ill  and  lonely  in  Italy,  and  that  he 
could  help  him  with  his  presence  and  his  purse.  Mingled  with 
this  impulse  of  comradeship  there  were,  no  doubt,  obscurer 
motives:  weariness  of  the  counting-room  on  India  Wharf,  the 
restlessness  of  youth,  and  the  desire  for  self-realization;  the 
dream,  scarcely  acknowledged  in  words,  of  devoting  himself 
to  the  art  of  music;  and  the  discovery,  already  made  in  1852 
and  1853,  that  Europe,  siren-sweet,  was  forever  beckoning. 


CHAPTER  IV 

FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE 

Long  I  followed  happy  guides, 
I  could  never  reach  their  sides. 

—  Emerson,  Forerunners. 

The  first  entry  in  his  diary  of  the  journey  follows. 

Wednesday,  Nov.  5  [1856].  I  sailed  from  Boston  for  Liver- 
pool in  the  Arabia  on  this  day  at  12  m.,  in  company  with 
Stephen  Perkins  and  Powell  Mason.  .  .  .  Capt.  Stone  com- 
mander —  a  fine,  clear,  cold  day  —  glad  to  be  off  after  so 
many  delays  —  was  not  sick.  I  left  my  will  ashore  with  father, 
contg.  a  note  for  Charley  to  be  del'd  to  Jim  H.  in  case  of  his 
death  and  mine  too,  of  course.  Jim  H.  also  to  take  charge  of 
my  papers  and  books,  etc. 

They  had  a  ten  days'  voyage.  Henry  beguiled  the  time  with 
long  talks  with  Stephen  Perkins  about  their  future,  and  read 
"The  Heir  of  Redcliffe" —  "rather  tiresome  yet  interesting." 
Landing  at  Liverpool  at  2  a.m.,  the  three  Boston  boys  ran 
all  the  way  to  the  Victoria  Hotel.  On  the  next  day,  Sunday, 
November  16,  Henry  looked  up  his  cousins,  the  William 
Channings  of  London,  who  happened  to  be  in  Liverpool, 
where  Mr.  Channing  was  preaching.  They  went  up  to  Lon- 
don on  Monday,  and  Henry  celebrated  his  twenty-second 
birthday  by  moving  into  lodgings  on  the  Strand.  He  visited 
the  Turner  exhibition  but  "did  n't  like  many  of  the  pictures" ; 
also  the  Crystal  Palace  and  the  famous  Barclay's  Brewery. 
At  the  bookshops  he  bought  Bacon's  "Essays"  and  "Advance- 
ment of  Learning,"  and  Clough's  "Bothie"  —  though  he  dis- 


94  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

covered  that  Clough  was  "hardly  known  to  the  booksellers  in 
London."  He  went  to  the  opera,  of  course,  and  found  Grisi's 
voice  "wearing  thin,"  and  that  the  English  were  too  boisterous 
in  the  applause  of  favorite  passages.  "They  don't  under- 
stand applause.    It  should  be  given  delicately." 

The  Channings,  who  had  now  returned  to  London,  took 
him  to  the  house  of  Gordon  Cummings,  then  famous  as  an 
African  lion-hunter:  — 

Went  to  Gordon  Cummings's  in  the  evening,  with  Fanny 
and  Frank  C.  Lots  of  skins,  horns,  skulls,  tusks,  etc.,  of  all 
kinds  of  beasts.  Charming  musician  with  old  ballads.  Cum- 
mings is  a  very  tall,  large,  graceful  and  strong  man,  and  re- 
lates the  account  of  his  hunting  —  chiefly  in  South  Africa  — 
with  a  good  deal  of  spirit  —  sometimes  swelling  into  the  most 
absurd  bombast  —  giving  us  a  little  of  his  own  poetry  — 
killed  104  elephants  —  lions  without  number,  shot  rhinocer- 
oses and  all  manner  of  beasts  —  something  quite  new  and 
unique. 

"Cousin  William"  Channing  told  him  that  the  English 
were  disappointed  at  Buchanan's  victory  over  Fremont  in  the 
Presidential  election :  — 

They  are  with  the  Republican  party,  with  the  North,  and 
they  damn  the  South  and  its  principles.  The  idea  cherished 
and  put  forth  by  the  South  that  England  will  form  an  alliance 
with  them  in  case  of  our  disunion  is  all  stuff.  They  '11  do 
nothing  of  the  kind,  but  they  may  do  something  quite  differ- 
ent. They  might  perhaps  help  us  in  getting  rid  of  slavery,  or 
in  any  struggle  we  may  have.    However,  we  shall  see. 

At  the  end  of  November  the  three  Boston  youths  left  for 
Paris,  and  settled  down  there,  as  it  proved,  for  two  months. 
Charles  Lowell  had  just  left  Florence  for  the  South,  and  it 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE  95 

was  impossible  to  join  him  at  once.  The  friends  took  rooms  in 
different  pensions,  so  as  to  hear  nothing  but  French.  "Scrub- 
bing away  at  the  language"  was  Henry's  description  of  his 
life  for  the  next  few  weeks  in  "dirty  and  cloudy"  Paris.  But 
they  relaxed  occasionally.  "Waxed  our  moustaches  and 
walked  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  very  much  noticed,  Pow.  in 
his  new  clothes  and  I  in  my  old  homespuns  and  cap."  — 
"Went  to  Mass  at  the  Madeleine,  a  huge  gorgeous  temple 
inside,  too  much  gilded,  too  much  bosh,  for  beauty;  inappro- 
priate inside  and  out  for  a  church."  He  saw  the  Emperor  and 
Empress  at  a  ball  in  the  opera  house:  "At  n\  the  Emperor 
and  Empress  entered  their  box  —  cry  of  'Vive  l'Empereur'  — 
a  rush  to  see  him  —  we  succeeded  in  getting  near  him  and 
were  much  pleased.  The  Empress  looked  thin  and  pale." 
Of  a  ball  in  a  private  house  he  writes  in  his  diary :  — 

To  a  ball  at  M.  Chalamet's  —  got  there  at  ten  o'clk,  a 
concert  just  beginning.  Four  rooms  prettily  arranged  for  the 
ball  with  mirrors  and  hangings,  rooms  very  full.  Watched  the 
whist-players  for  more  than  an  hour  and  then  played  four 
hours  myself,  won  22  sous  —  strange  game  they  play,  leading 
trumps  out  first,  etc.,  etc.,  a  king  having  the  queen  too,  very 
often.  Saw  the  dancing  a  while ;  they  waltz  very  fast,  and  with 
small  side-steps;  pretty  well  only.  Some  pretty  faces  and 
figures,  men  small  and  measly ;  got  home  and  to  bed  at  five. 

Occasionally  the  three  friends  allowed  themselves  some 
conversation  in  English. 

Dec.  19.  In  the  afternoon  S.  and  P.  came  round,  and  we 
talked  on  religious  matters.  S.  cannot  believe  now  that  the 
good  person  receives  his  reward  on  this  earth.  Would  like  to 
annihilate  his  soul.  Says  the  best  people  are  the  unhappiest. 
I  think  the  reward  does  come  on  this  earth  now  and  then. 
P.  does  not  see  where  Providence  ends  and  free-will  begins. 


96  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

A  letter  to  his  sister  Mary,  December  31,  gives  some  inter- 
esting advice  about  books  and  reading :  — 

.  .  .  About  Shakespeare,  I  should  advise  to  leave  that  till 
some  future  day.  There  are  people  of  much  intellect  who  never 
like  Shakespeare,  and  it  is  no  disgrace  to  you  that  you  do  not. 
The  Lord  made  you,  better  than  you  can  make  yourself.  You 
may  understand,  as  you  say,  Shakespeare,  but  may  reap  no 
real  good  from  him.  I  read  Shakespeare  very  little,  till  I  was 
older  than  you.  Jim,  I  think,  told  me  that  he  read  all  his  plays 
at  about  seventeen  and  did  not  enjoy  them.  Stephen  said  to 
me  a  day  or  two  since,  that  he  read  about  one  play  a  year,  re- 
read that  15  or  20  times,  and  considered  it  quite  enough  for 
him.  I  should  recommend  the  "Spectator,"  Goldsmith,  some 
of  the  more  modern  works,  Johnson,  if  you  like,  tho'  he  is 
puffed  up  and  stupid,  Boswell's  "Life  of  Johnson,"  "The 
Bothie  of  Tober-Na-Vuolich,"  "Consuelo,"  Scott's  novels, 
Biographies  of  any  kind;  above  all,  Lamb's  Essays,  if  you  like 
them  —  anything  rather  than  Shakespeare.  .  .  .  Never  force 
a  love  of  literature,  that  is,  of  books  written  for  pleasure 
whether  high  or  low.  Literature  is  a  fine  art.  Some  people 
care  merely  for  information.  Perhaps  you  are  one  of  them.  I 
should  recommend  to  read  the  Bible  a  little,  when  you  feel 
like  it.  Only  a  little  at  a  time.  It  is  very  beautiful  in  parts. 
Don't  do  so,  if  it  is  distasteful.  The  "Proverbs"  are  good. 
Change  your  books,  when  you  're  reading.  Read  an  hour  or 
two  in  one,  and  then  change. 

I  'm  going  to  Italy  in  ten  days  [Henry  wrote  his  father  on 
January  21,  1857].  I  '11  do  my  best  for  C.  [Charles  Lowell] 
in  pecuniary  ways.  I  've  got  a  plenty  for  both.  Now  don't 
shake  your  head.  If  I  were  to  show  you  my  map  of  life  for  five 
or  ten  years,  you  'd  agree.  It  is  n't  covered  with  gold  by  any 
means.  But  what  is  money  good  for,  if  not  to  spend  for  one's 
friends  and  to  help  them?   You've  done  so  all  your  life  —  let 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE  97 

me  do  so  too  while  I  can,  for  it  is  in  me  (I  have  always  known 
it)  to  be  a  close  man,  a  miser. 

It  was  on  January  25  that  Higginson  and  Stephen  Perkins 
started  for  Florence,  by  way  of  Dijon,  Lausanne,  and  Geneva, 
then  Lyons,  Avignon,  Marseilles,  and  Nice.  At  Lausanne  they 
visited  with  "Cousin  Frank"  Lowell  and  his  children,  and 
called  upon  the  Baron  d'Hauteville,  an  old  acquaintance. 
They  had  a  cold,  uncomfortable  sail  down  the  Rhone,  but 
Marseilles  atoned  for  it:  "Went  on  the  rocks  outside  and  sat 
there  all  the  morning.  Beautiful  sky  and  sea,  —  warm,  very,  — 
pink  and  white  rocks.  Dark  people.  Red  caps  and  colors 
strong  everywhere."  They  took  a  boat  for  Nice,  and  then 
walked  along  the  Italian  Riviera  nearly  to  Genoa,  where 
Henry  was  too  lame  to  walk  more. 

It  was  delightful  [he  wrote  to  his  father  on  February  19 
from  Florence] :  the  beautiful  Mediterranean  always  in  sight 
on  one  side,  the  snow  mountains  on  the  other,  the  olive  trees 
with  their  beautiful  gray-green  foliage,  the  tropical  palms,  the 
orange  and  lemon  trees  covered  with  ripe  and  ripening  fruit, 
the  houses  covered  with  frescoes,  the  men  and  women  in  the 
bright,  strong  colors  of  southern  races,  driving  mules  and 
carrying  baskets  of  fruit  on  their  heads  to  market.  The  sun 
was  very  warm,  and  at  the  same  time  the  air  at  morning  and 
evening  cool.  We  had  overcoats  without  any  undercoats,  and 
were  just  warm  enough.  We  used  to  lie  on  the  beaches  in  the 
evening  and  go  to  bed  early.   Imagine  this  in  February. 

Charles  Lowell  was,  fortunately,  better,  quite  free  from  the 
dreaded  cough,  and  although  nervous  and  excited,  evidently 
on  the  mend.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Samuel  R.  Putnam  of  Boston 
were  at  Florence,  as  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Tappan 
(Caroline  Sturgis),  all  intimate  family  friends  of  the  Higgin- 
sons.    Henry  tramped  around  Florence  with  Willie  Putnam, 


98  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

went  to  musical  evenings  at  Mr.  Francis  Boott's,  and  was  there 
told  that  "Mozart  was  old-fashioned  and  that  Verdi  was  the 
composer  for  modern  times."  The  diary  records  a  long  talk 
with  Mrs.  Tappan  about  studying  music  "as  the  best  thing 
for  me  and  others."  Perhaps  Charles  Lowell  was  of  the  same 
opinion,  for  the  diary  avers:  "We  settled  yesterday  [March  6, 
1857]  that  in  order  to  do  and  be  anything,  a  man  must  know 
one  thing;  which  is  rarely  the  case  —  no  information ;  know- 
ledge is  wanted  —  being  in  a  counting-room  and  reading  is  of 
no  use  —  learn  one  thing  and  then  you  can  go  on  without 
effort  —  else  life  is  damned  nonsense.  C.  wishes  to  study 
science  and  I  music  —  the  best  things  for  us." 

At  the  end  of  March  the  little  Boston  colony  migrated  from 
Florence  to  Rome  —  Henry  Higginson  living  with  the  Tap- 
pans,  Charles  Lowell  with  the  Putnams,  and  Stephen  Perkins 
going  into  lodgings.  Rome  was  full  of  other  Bostonians  that 
pleasant  spring:  Charles  Eliot  Norton,  Mrs.  Stowe,  the 
Paines,  the  Frank  Lowells,  the  Thomas  Carys,  and  the  Tick- 
nors.  Henry  writes  to  his  father  in  April:  "We  came  in  yes- 
terday from  a  walk  of  four  days  among  the  hills,  Charley, 
Stephen  and  I.  Charley  took  a  horse,  which  he  rode  most  of 
the  time."  They  visited  Hadrian's  villa,  Tivoli,  Subiaco,  and 
Praeneste. 

It  was  too  much  for  C,  —  indeed  he  came  in  with  a  cold, 
over-taxed,  and  lost  by  it,  —  not  much,  but  a  little.  The  last 
day,  as  I  wrote  you,  it  rained  furiously.  C,  having  a  thick 
overcoat,  rode  in  on  horse-back  at  full  speed  —  25  miles, 
there  being  no  other  conveyance.  He  got  wet  to  his  knees  only. 
S.  and  I  walked  in  6|  hours  the  whole  way,  and  being  without 
overcoats,  were  wet  to  the  skin.  We  had  to  keep  up  our  pace 
in  order  to  keep  warm,  and  not  get  the  Roman  fever.  We  could 
hardly  move  for  a  day  or  two,  so  very  sore  were  our  feet.  Now 
you  know  that  we  have  considerable  natural  bottom,  power  of 
endurance,  and  yet  we  were  nearly  exhausted  (literally  so)  on 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE  99 

our  arrival.  The  speed,  and  weight  of  the  wet  clothes  had  been 
too  much  for  us.  Three  miles  an  hour  is  fair  walking,  three 
and  a  quarter  good  walking,  if  one  is  to  keep  it  up  five  hours 
or  so.    Just  think  of  C.'s  doing  that.  Why,  it  would  kill  him ! 

But  only  a  week  later  the  boys  are  planning  another  excur- 
sion :  "  Mr.  Hamilton  Wild,  son  of  the  cashier,  a  young  painter 
of  much  merit,  we  see  very  often  and  find  him  very  merry  and 
pleasant.  He,  Mr.  Story,  Mr.  [John  W.]  Field,  Charley  L. 
and  I  are  going  out  among  the  mountains  for  a  week  or  so. 
We  shall  have  a  great  time." 

It  is  curious  [Henry  wrote  to  his  father  after  the  week  was 
over]  to  watch  two  or  three  new  people  as  we  did  on  that  trip ; 
traveling  brings  out  people's  weak  points  certainly,  and  also 
many  of  their  good  ones.  I  am  continually  surprised  to  find 
how  little  men  are,  —  that  is,  that  they  amount  to  no  more, 
—  indeed,  hardly  so  much  as  the  young  men  whom  I  have  so 
constantly  seen.  It  may  be  that  men  of  settled  employment, 
whatever  it  may  be,  put  their  whole  strength  into  their  work 
and  have  none  to  spare  for  ordinary  occasions,  for  everyday 
life,  which  is  wrong.  Mr.  Story  is  a  man  of  considerable  tal- 
ents, and  of  great  industry,  but  of  no  genius;  so  I  believe. 
His  theory  is  that  there  is  more  difference  in  will  than  in 
ability  to  do,  and  that  a  man  can  with  industry  do  anything. 
On  this  theory  he  has  acted,  and  it  rests  with  the  world  to 
decide  whether  he  has  succeeded.  He  is  a  sculptor,  a  good 
draftsman,  writes  poetry,  is  skilled  in  belles-lettres  and  in 
music,  is  very  kind  and  good-natured,  very  vain,  honest  and 
true  in  intention,  tho'  he  exaggerates  for  the  sake  of  a  joke 
far  too  much,  is  rather  prejudiced.  He  is  a  good  fellow,  and 
a  very  pleasant  man  and  acquaintance. 

Rather  shrewd  comment  for  a  young  man  living  for  the 
first  time  with  "artistic"  temperaments! 


ioo  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

A  letter  to  his  sister  Mary  shows  how  he  is  learning  to  see 
things  with  a  painter's  eye. 

The  Campagna,  May  12th,  '57. 
Dear  Mary,  — 

You  must  know  that  the  Campagna  is  an  undulating  plain 
extending  on  all  sides  of  Rome  for  twenty  miles  or  more. 
Upon  it  are  very  few  houses  or  buildings  of  any  kind,  as  the 
malaria  or  Roman  fever  attacks  the  inhabitants.  All  about 
one  can  see  the  ruins  of  old  towers,  aqueducts,  etc.,  etc.,  but 
very  few  trees  or  fences  or  anything  but  smooth  pastures.  In 
some  places  are  large  grain-fields,  and  fewer  fields  of  vege- 
tables, etc.  These  last  fields  are  beautifully  green,  but  the 
pastures  are  purple,  brown,  yellow,  red,  sometimes  green; 
and  the  whole  is  bounded  by  the  Sabine  and  Alban  hills,  which 
are  branches  of  the  Apennines.  Speaking  of  the  color  of  the 
pastures,  I  do  not  mean  that  they  are  not  green  just  as  at 
home ;  but  if  you  will  notice  any  green  fields  seen  at  a  distance, 
you  will  see  that  they  are  not  green,  just  green.  This  Cam- 
pagna is  unlike  anything  in  the  world  as  far  as  my  knowledge 
goes:  it  is  unlike  any  rolling  prairie  even,  tho'  of  the  same 
character,  I  fancy.  Seen  from  Lake  Albano  in  the  Alban  hills 
a  few  days  since,  the  Campagna  looked  precisely  like  the  sea 
slightly  tossed  by  the  wind.  It  is  an  enchanting  place,  which 
one  becomes  more  and  more  fascinated  by  daily. 

On  this  great  plain  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tappan  and  I  are  passing 
the  day.  A  rain-storm  has  been  threatening  us  for  some  hours, 
and  is  now  pouring  out  its  force  upon  the  snow-capped  moun- 
tains in  the  distance.  The  clouds  are  rolling  down  into  the 
valley,  and  may  wet  us  before  we  can  get  home.  Mr.  T.  has 
gone  into  one  of  the  many  excavations  on  the  Campagna,  in 
order  to  escape  the  wind  and  to  read.  Mrs.  T.  is  lying  on  the 
grass  with  her  head  against  an  old  stone-wall,  listening  to  the 
larks;  and  I  am  writing  on  her  sketch-book  to  my  youthful 
sister  at  home.  .  .  . 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE  101 

Summer  was  coming,  and  the  three  lads  started  on  a  unique 
journey  North.  The  diary,  which  comes  to  an  abrupt  close  on 
May  25,  has  this  entry  for  Sunday,  May  24:  — 

Left  Rome  at  6  and  |  o'clk,  Ch.  on  horse-back,  St.  and  I 
with  three  trunks  in  the  cart  with  Gusway  [the  horse].  Drove 
out  on  the  Siena  road  to  Baccano,  where  we  breakfasted  and 
nooned  —  19  miles  —  thence  to  Monterose,  26  m.,  turned  off 
to  Sutri,  7  m.  more,  beautifully  situated  in  a  valley,  where  we 
saw  a  fine  old  amphitheatre  cut  from  the  rock;  thence  drove 
thro'  a  beautiful  winding  valley,  woody,  to  Capranica,  3  m. 
more,  and  slept  miserably  at .   Made  in  all  36  miles. 

They  had  had  great  difficulty  in  securing  horses.  Henry 
wrote  to  his  father,  after  a  month  on  the  road :  — 

If  you  consider  that  Rome  is  crammed  at  a  certain  season 
with  thousands  of  strangers  seeking  pleasure,  and  that  there 
are  peculiar  advantages  for  riding  in  consequence  of  the  Cam- 
pagna,  you  will  at  once  see  that  it  must  be  very  difficult  or 
even  impossible  to  find  a  horse.  Charles  Norton  said  in  Novem- 
ber even  he  could  not  get  a  horse  for  love  or  money.  Charley 
proposed  to  me  to  ride  from  Rome  north  to  Florence,  Venice, 
and  even  to  Dresden.  We  tried  horses,  and  at  last  found  two 
for  our  purposes.  I  had  decided  to  drive  and  carry  the  luggage, 
and  Stephen  as  far  as  he  wished  to  go.  Charley  paid  —  never 
mind ;  I  paid  $90  for  my  horse,  $50  for  a  strong  two-wheeled 
gig,  $10  for  my  harness,  and  a  little  more  for  extras.  It  is  a 
pretty  considerable  expense,  but  it  ought  to  do  C.  much  good 
—  indeed,  he  is  already  rather  better  than  in  Rome.  It  is 
considered  the  best  thing  for  him,  and  seems  to  be  very  good 
in  theory.  He  can  ride  as  far  as  he  likes,  and  then  drive  in 
the  gig.  My  horse  is  very  strong.  He  carries  150  to  200  lbs. 
luggage,  and  all  three  of  us,  easily.  Generally  one  of  us  rides 
and  the  other  two  drive.  Two  days  since,  we  went  fifty  miles 


102  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

under  three  heavy  showers,  and  the  horses  were  fresh  as  larks 
the  next  day,  and  went  on  as  usual.  We  start  from  five  to  six 
(sometimes  later),  drive  till  it  gets  warm,  stop  several  hours, 
feed  our  horses  and  eat,  read  and  sleep  till  it  is  again  cool, 
when  we  drive  on.  We  average  30  to  35  miles  a  day;  the  horses 
are  good  for  fifty  any  day.  It  cost  C.  for  eleven  days  from 
Rome  to  Florence  about  $17;  he  and  his  horse.  Dr.  Wilson 
says  it  is  a  good  thing  for  C,  and  that 's  enough. 

The  opening  paragraph  of  this  letter,  written  at  Venice  on 
June  23,  is  delightful:  — 

Dear  Father  :  — 

Here  am  I  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  sitting  in  the  piazza 
of  St.  Mark  in  front  of  a  cafe  and  writing  to  you.  Stephen, 
Charley  and  I  have  been  talking  all  night.  At  half-past  three 
they  went  to  bed,  and  I,  having  washed  my  face  and  re-read 
all  your  letters  from  No.  19  to  23  inclusive,  which  came  into 
my  possession  yesterday,  have  made  a  list  of  the  items  to  be 
answered,  and  am  now  ready  to  begin.  But  first  let  me  say 
that  Venice  is  about  the  most  charming  city  in  the  world,  and 
this  square  of  St.  Mark  is  unrivaled  in  beauty.  Around  on 
three  sides  runs  a  colonnade  in  which  are  cafes  and  bright,  gay 
shops;  at  the  end  of  it  is  the  Church  of  St.  Mark,  the  hand- 
somest church  that  has  met  my  view  for  many  a  day.  It  is  far, 
far  handsomer  than  St.  Peter's  at  Rome.  For  this  church  the 
sea-captains  of  Venice,  when  at  its  prime,  were  ordered  to 
bring  home  whatever  they  could  find  in  the  world  handsome 
and  rich.  Over  this  church  the  sun  is  just  peeping;  at  its  foot, 
or  rather  doorway,  the  Austrian  soldiers  are  marching  by.  It 
is  a  delightful  place  to  write,  but  the  wind  blows  about  my 
letter  sadly.  You  see  that  it  is  already  blotted  tho'  I  had  re- 
solved to  send  you  a  clean  sheet;  nor  can  I  write  well  here. 
Still,  the  romance  of  the  thing  must  carry  you  through.  One 
great  charm  in  Venice  is  that  you  never  see  a  horse  there.  One 
takes  a  gondola  for  a  long  distance. 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        103 

"Both  our  horses  have  proved  sound  and  kind,"  wrote 
Charles  Russell  Lowell  to  his  mother  from  Venice.  "Henry's 
was  bought  from  a  carter  and  has  shown  himself  a  miracle  of 
endurance,  but  he  has  worked  too  hard  in  his  youth  to  enjoy 
much  now;  mine,  on  the  contrary,  had  always  rollicked  on  the 
Campagna,  had  never  worn  shoes,  and  I  feared  the  monoto- 
nous routine  of  labour  might  be  intolerable  to  him,  in  spite  of 
the  solid  oats  he  earned  at  both  ends  of  the  day.  Madam,  my 
fears  were  groundless  —  that  cavallino  works  as  well,  eats  as 
fast,  sleeps  as  sound  as  his  more  staid  companion,  and  life  is  to 
him  tenfold  less  bitter;  our  midday  siesta  is  a  season  of  ever 
new  delights  to  him;  he  rejoices  in  the  song  of  the  birds,  in  the 
rustling  of  the  leaves,  in  the  wind  that  shakes  his  mane :  the 
other  takes  his  rest  as  gladly  in  the  shadow  of  a  house  as  under 
the  shade  of  forest  trees.  I  call  my  animal  Nosegay  —  nor  is 
it  physically  inappropriate,  as  he  has  a  bright  pink  spot  on  the 
end  of  his  nose."1 

As  they  pushed  North  for  the  Tyrol,  they  were  thrilled  by 
the  vision  of  the  Alps.   Henry  wrote :  — 

As  we  drove  out  of  Treviso,  we  saw  for  the  first  time  the 
long,  deep-blue  line  of  the  Tyrolese  Alps.  It  was  splendid 
after  so  long  a  time  on  the  flat  Lombard  plains.  All  day  long 
we  drove  nearer  to  them,  and  at  night  slept  at  their  bases.  A 
strange  feeling  of  excitement  seizes  one  on  getting  among 
mountains.  One  not  only  finds  delight  in  their  beauty,  their 
wondrous  lights  and  shadows  chasing  one  another  along  their 
sides,  up  and  down  their  valleys,  their  gushing,  dashing 
streams,  their  beautiful  clothing  of  trees  and  turf,  or,  high  up, 
of  gray  rock  and  snow,  while  down  below  their  bases  are  cov- 
ered with  pastures  and  cultivated  fields  of  grain,  with  here  and 
there  a  cluster  of  cottages.  In  all  this  one  delights,  and  really 
loves  them  too.  But  beyond  it  all  is  a  wonderful  exhilaration 
amounting  to  excitement  about  them.  Else  whence  comes  the 
intense,  overwhelming  passion  to  go  over  high  passes  and 

1  E.  W.  Emerson,  op.  cit.,  p.  138. 


104  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

mountains?  Everyone  who  has  walked  much  in  Switzerland, 
and  is  capable  of  being  excited,  owns  to  the  same  feeling.  Mr. 
Field,  a  quiet  and  reasonable  man  enough,  owned  to  just  our 
feelings  about  it.  It  is  not  foolhardiness:  married  men  like 
my  companions,  Mr.  Eliot  and  Mr.  Field,  have  this  feeling, 
yet  would  indulge  in  no  foolhardiness  for  its  own  sake.  It  is  a 
separate  passion,  quite  by  itself,  only  to  be  understood  by 
those  who  have  experienced  it.  It  is  a  thing  to  be  considered 
and  treated  by  future  metaphysicians. 

From  Salzburg,  July  18,  Henry  writes  of  Lowell's  improve- 
ment: — 

He  grows  stronger  daily.  I  think  he  has  not  been  in  my 
cart  since  we  left  Venice  the  ist  July.  He  rides  the  whole 
distance,  that  is,  30  to  35  miles  or  more  daily.  Uphill  and 
down  we  go,  and  he  has  been  some  days  eight  or  nine  hours  in 
the  saddle.  If  the  hill  is  very  steep,  he  walks  by  the  side  of  his 
horse  uphill,  and  usually  does  so  downhill.  We  went  on  the 
glaciers  one  day,  and  had  seven  hours  of  walking  and  climb- 
ing ;  he  was  not  tired  by  it.  We  are  traveling  now  quite  at  our 
ease,  and  can  stop  when  we  will.  Venice  did  not  quite  agree 
with  C.  He  was  not  well  there;  that  is,  he  felt  feverish  and 
used  up.  It  was  pretty  hot.  But  since  that  he  has  been  very 
well. 

They  went  down  the  Danube  from  Linz  to  Vienna. 

I  often  wish  you  were  here,  old  daddy,  to  drive  about  with 
me  in  the  cart;  itwould  joltyour  old  bones  a  bit,  butyou  would 
soon  be  used  to  it,  and  only  feel  hungry,  not  sore,  at  the  end 
of  the  day.  You  would  enjoy  very  much  the  beautiful  scenery, 
which  is  daily  before  us.  This  way  of  traveling  is  very  good 
and  cheap,  reckoned  day  by  day.  I  brought  two  Englishmen 
part  of  the  way  from  Salzburg  here ;  the  cart  is  very  broad  and 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        105 

the  horse  strong.  We  leave  Vienna,  where  we  've  enjoyed 
ourselves  much,  to-morrow.  It  is  too  hot  and  close  for  C.  The 
opera  and  concerts  are  first  rate  here,  you  know. 

Turning  northward  again  through  Bohemia  to  Prague,  they 
finally  reached  Dresden  on  August  31  — having  been  more 
than  three  months  on  the  way.  Nosegay,  Gusway,  and  the 
cart  were  sold  at  half  price.  "We  were  both  of  us  rather  glad," 
wrote  Charles  to  his  mother,  "to  put  off  our  dusty  riding  gar- 
ments and  settle  down  into  civilization.  We  'vote'  our  mode 
of  traveling  to  be  in  every  respect  the  best  that  young  men 
can  find,  except  walking  with  a  knapsack."  At  Dresden  they 
found  their  friend  John  C.  Bancroft,  the  historian's  son,  who 
had  been  on  an  unlucky  voyage  to  Surinam,  and  was  now 
taking  up  painting;  also  Powell  Mason,  "Bob"  Paine  and  the 
Putnam  family. 

Charley  is  to  stay  here  about  a  month  in  a  German  family, 
John  with  him,  painting,  and  I  go  to  Vienna  in  a  few  days,  for 
the  winter  certainly,  in  order  to  learn  something  of  music 
practically  and  theoretically.  I  should  stay  with  them  here 
until  C.'s  departure  for  Algiers,  but  have  already  spent  so 
much  time  in  mere  moving,  sight-seeing  and  loafing,  that  I 
ought  to  begin  immediately.  I  've  had  this  plan  of  trying  to 
learn  a  little  music  for  some  time  (it  is  a  very  old  idea,  you 
know,  of  my  former  visit  to  Europe),  and  have  been  making 
inquiries  about  my  best  place  of  residence.  My  conclusion  is 
as  aforesaid  —  Leipzig,  Berlin,  Prague,  Dresden  for  Germany, 
Paris  and  Brussels  for  France,  and  several  cities  for  Italy,  have 
all  great  musical  schools  and  reputation,  but  Germany  seems 
to  me  best  of  all  lands  for  music,  Vienna  to  combine  most  of  all 
German  cities.  It  is  possible  that  I  may  not  go  there,  but  stay 
in  North  Germany.  You  may  wonder  at  my  staying  in  Europe 
apart  from  my  friends  for  any  such  purpose.  All  I  can  say  is 
this  —  I  am  quite  tired  of  mere  traveling,  and  of  half  studying, 


io6  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

and  I  have  no  desire  to  return  to  America  and  earn  money.  I 
will  write  more  fully  of  this  some  other  morning;  to-day  I  am 
not  sufficiently  quiet  and  collected  to  do  so. 

Henry's  next  letter  is  dated  from  Vienna  in  September,  and 
it  is  most  significant. 

Dear  Father,  — 

My  last  letter  was  short  and  poor,  mentally  and  physically, 
for  the  simple  reason  that  I  could  not  write  that  day.  However, 
it  was  fully  time  that  you  should  know  my  plans,  so  far  as 
they  were  perfected.  I  had  formed  them  long  before,  and  had 
been  brooding  over  them  so  long,  that  I  had  assembled  many 
reasons  for  and  against  them;  hence  out  of  this  plenty  grew 
the  want  of  my  letter. 

My  decision  in  favor  of  this  city  was  thus  based.  Here  one 
can  get  good  enough,  if  not  the  best,  instruction  in  the  theory 
of  music,  and  also  in  instrumental  music;  and  in  singing  far 
better  instruction  than  in  any  other  German  city.  Many 
people  go  to  Italy  for  vocal  and  to  Germany  for  instrumental 
music,  and  for  harmony.  I  hope  to  unite  the  two  here,  as  of 
course  many  Italians  come  to  Vienna  in  connection  with  the 
Italian  opera-troupe  and  in  other  ways.  Instruction  in  all 
three  things  can  be  taken  to  advantage  at  one  time;  and  I 
deemed  it  wiser  to  make  the  most  of  my  opportunities. 
Vienna  is  also  said  to  be  the  pleasantest  German  city,  which 
is  certainly  something  to  me.  The  people  are  half  southern  in 
their  feelings  and  manners;  none  of  the  northern  frigidness  and 
splendor  of  manner.  A  coachman  has  just  been  dancing  to  a 
hand-organ  in  the  courtyard.  It  is  a  rather  dear  place,  but  all 
Europe  is  growing  much  dearer,  owing  to  the  internal  improve- 
ments, to  the  war,  etc.,  etc.,  the  same  things  affecting  them 
as  at  home.  I  have  been  searching  far  and  wide  for  a  room, 
have  seen  an  innumerable  number  of  them,  and  have  at  last 
got  one  at  $10  a  month.    It  is  very  well  placed,  has  plenty  of 


HENRY    L.    H1GGINSON 
From  a  Vienna  photograph  of  the  fifties 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        107 

light  and  air  (not  common  in  a  European  city),  and  is  really 
cheap.  There  is  no  rate  for  rooms  here.  I  've  seen  bad  ones 
dear,  and  good  ones  cheap;  as  for  instance,  one  poorer  than 
mine  seen  to-day  at  $17^.  I  can  get  my  coffee  in  the  morning 
and  a  good  dinner  with  wine  (the  water  is  bad  in  some  places 
here,  and  never  safe)  for  60  cents,  and  if  supper  is  necessary, 
that  for  15  to  20  cents  more.  I  judged  it  wise  to  have  a  clean, 
airy  and  pleasant  room,  inasmuch  as  it  was  to  be  my  home, 
sleeping-  and  studying-room ;  and  as  regards  food,  I  imagine 
it  is  good  economy  to  have  really  good  tho'  plain  food,  and  to 
live  at  a  restaurant  where  I  am  sure  to  get  bona-fide  articles 
and  no  grease.  ...  I  feel  sure  that  I  can  live  and  have  every 
advantage  in  instruction,  under  $1000  per  annum;  but  how 
much  under  remains  to  be  seen.  My  reasons  for  taking  this 
step  are,  I  suppose,  as  well  known  to  you  as  to  me  —  but  I 
will  write  a  little  of  them. 

As  everyone  has  some  particular  object  of  supreme  interest 
to  himself,  so  I  have  music.  It  is  almost  my  inner  world; 
without  it,  I  miss  much,  and  with  it  I  am  happier  and  better. 
You  may  remember  that  I  wished  to  study  music  some  years 
ago,  when  in  Europe  before. 

On  my  return  home  other  studies  took  up  my  time  so  much 
that  music  had  to  be  neglected  much  against  my  will.  The 
same  was  true  when  in  the  store.  It  is  quite  true  that  I  had 
plenty  of  spare  hours  during  my  apprenticeship,  but  it  is,  in 
my  opinion,  very  false  to  suppose  that  a  knowledge  of  any- 
thing so  difficult  as  music  can  be  gained,  when  the  best  hours 
of  the  day  and  the  best  energies  of  the  man  are  consumed  by 
the  acquiring  of  another  knowledge.  Of  course  men  more  bus- 
ily employed  than  I  was  have  applied  themselves  to  and  con- 
quered great  things  in  science,  in  art,  etc.,  etc.,  but  they  are 
exceptions  certainly,  and  i"  nothing  of  the  kind.  At  any  rate, 
I  did  not  learn  anything  more  of  music  during  those  nineteen 
months.  I  felt  the  want  of  it  greatly,  and  was  very  sorry  to 
give  up  the  thing  dearest  to  me.  When  I  came  out  here,  I  had 


108  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

no  plans,  as  you  know.  Trade  was  not  satisfying  to  the  inner 
man  for  a  life-occupation.  Out  here  I  have  consulted,  and 
have  decided  to  try  to  learn  something  of  music  ex-  and  in- 
ternally, i.e.,  of  playing  and  of  harmony  or  thorough-bass.  If 
I  find  that  I  am  not  profiting  at  all  by  my  work,  I  shall  throw 
it  up  and  go  home.    If  I  gain  something,  I  shall  stick  to  it. 

You  will  ask,  "What  is  to  come  of  it  all  if  successful?"  I 
do  not  know.  But  this  is  clear.  I  have  then  improved  my  own 
powers,  which  is  every  man's  duty.  I  have  a  resource  to  which 
I  can  always  turn  with  delight,  however  the  world  may  go 
with  me.  I  am  so  much  the  stronger,  the  wider,  the  wiser,  the 
better  for  my  duties  in  life.  I  can  then  go  with  satisfaction  to 
my  business,  knowing  my  resource  at  the  end  of  the  day.  It 
is  already  made,  and  has  only  to  be  used  and  it  will  grow. 
Finally,  it  is  my  province  in  education,  and  having  cultivated 
myself  in  it,  I  am  fully  prepared  to  teach  others  in  it. 

Education  is  the  object  of  man,  and  it  seems  to  me  the  duty 
of  us  all  to  help  in  it,  each  according  to  his  means  and  in  his 
sphere.  I  have  often  wondered  how  people  could  teach  this 
and  that,  but  I  understand  it  now.  I  could  teach  people  to 
sing,  as  far  as  I  know,  with  delight  to  myself.  Thus  I  have  a 
means  of  living  if  other  things  should  fail.  But  the  pleasure, 
pure  and  free  from  all  disagreeable  consequences  or  after- 
thoughts, of  playing,  and  still  more  of  singing  myself,  is  in- 
describable. In  Rome  I  took  about  eight  lessons  of  a  capital 
master,  and  I  used  to  enjoy  intensely  the  singing  to  his  ac- 
companiment my  exercises  and  some  little  Neapolitan  songs. 

My  reasons  for  studying  harmony  are  manifest.  I  cannot 
properly  understand  music  without  doing  so;  moreover,  it  is 
an  excellent  exercise  for  the  mind.  As  to  writing  music,  I 
have  nothing  to  say;  but  it  is  not  my  expectation.  It  is  like 
writing  poetry:  if  one  is  prompted  to  do  so,  and  has  anything 
to  say,  he  does  it.  But  I  entirely  disavow  any  such  intention 
or  aim  in  my  present  endeavor  —  and  this  I  wish  to  be  most 
clearly  expressed  and  understood,  should  anyone  ask  about 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        109 

me.  I  am  studying  for  my  own  good  and  pleasure.  And  now, 
old  daddy,  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  make  something  out  of 
this  long  letter.  You  should  not  have  been  troubled  with  it, 
but  I  thought  you  would  prefer  to  know  all  about  it.  It  is  only 
carrying  out  your  own  darling  idea  of  making  an  imperish- 
able capital  in  education.  My  money  may  fly  away;  my  know- 
ledge cannot.   One  belongs  to  the  world,  the  other  to  me. 

A  few  lines  from  a  letter  to  his  sister  Mary,  on  October  1, 
make  it  clear  that  his  estimate  of  his  musical  ability  was 
modest:  — 

...  I  distinctly  disavow  all  intention  or  expectation  of 
writing  music,  and  if  I  can  get  a  clear  insight  into  the  art 
and  a  knowledge  of  its  nature,  capabilities,  and  place,  shall  be 
quite  satisfied.  It  is  not  even  my  belief  that  my  fingers  will 
ever  be  limber  enough  to  play  well.  If  I  find  that  my  labor  in 
it  is  to  have  no  adequate  reward,  I  shall  throw  the  whole  thing 
up  and  go  home.  .  .  .  The  opera  [in  Vienna]  (as  also  the 
theatres)  is  the  best,  I  think,  in  the  world.  In  London  and  in 
Paris  the  orchestra  singers,  etc.,  are  of  course  of  the  best,  but 
the  music  is  inferior;  in  Berlin  everything  German  is  to  be 
heard  most  admirably  and  correctly  given,  but  the  fire  is 
wanting;  and  in  Dresden  and  Munich  the  courts  are  not  rich 
enough  to  keep  such  a  company  as  here.  Besides,  in  Vienna 
during  three  months  there  is  an  Italian  opera  company  sing- 
ing their  own  music.  Night  before  last  "  Der  Freischiitz"  was 
given;  the  opera  is  a  gem  in  itself,  as  anyone  must  allow,  who 
knows  it.  The  first  act  was  given  excellently :  and  then  came 
the  "Cassh,"  my  darling  singer  here,  a  very  handsome,  mod- 
est, jolly  girl  of  twenty  or  so,  with  a  splendid,  fresh,  full, 
thrilling  voice.  She  is  going  to  be  married  and  sang  for  her 
last  time.  And  she  was  charming  thro'out.  Dear  me!  I  wish 
that  she  'd  stay  here  at  least,  instead  of  going  to  Paris  with  her 
rich  husband.   She  is,  I  believe,  a  Hungarian,  and  is  splendid. 


no  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Henry  Higginson  had  now  been  ten  months  away  from 
home,  and  he  was  just  settling  down  to  what  he  thought  might 
prove  his  life-work.  His  anxiety  about  his  best  friend,  Charles 
Lowell,  was  in  a  measure  relieved.  His  own  health  seemed 
perfect.  The  legacies  from  his  grandfather  and  his  uncle  gave 
assurance  of  financial  independence  for  a  long  residence 
abroad. 

He  was  speculating  a  little,  on  his  own  account,  —  and,  as 
it  proved,  profitably,  —  in  indigo,  jute,  and  other  East  India 
products.  "Give  me  a  bit  of  the  market  now  and  then," 
he  had  written  to  his  father;  and  George  Higginson  liked 
nothing  better.  It  must  be  remembered  that  Charles  Lowell, 
during  those  months  of  intimate  companionship  in  Italy, 
wrote  home  to  his  mother  that  Henry  was  "a  born  merchant." 
Henry's  letters  of  this  period  to  his  brother  George,  who  was 
making  a  business  trip  to  Calcutta,  have  the  same  hard,  stac- 
cato common  sense  about  buying  and  selling  that  marked  his 
addresses  to  the  young  bond  salesmen  of  Lee,  Higginson  and 
Co.,  fifty  years  later. 

Yet,  while  he  was  following  keenly  every  turn  in  the  Boston 
and  London  markets,  his  letters  reveal  also  a  strong  interest  in 
American  and  European  politics.  "Why  can't  you  write  some- 
thing of  Kansas  and  of  its  prospects  of  freedom?"  he  had 
asked  his  father.  In  that  happy  month  of  May,  1857,  in  Rome, 
he  had  written:  — 

It  is  well  that  our  government  disapproves  of  the  Chinese 
war,  for  it  surely  seems  unjust.  There  is  no  pretense  even  of 
Christianity  in  the  dealings  of  nations.  Governments  act  on  a 
wrong  principle,  it  seems  to  me.  Judge  Taney's  decision  is 
infamous  to  the  last  degree.  Ben  Curtis  [who  had  dissented 
from  Chief  Justice  Taney's  opinion]  for  once  has  been  honest. 
I  do  wish  the  North  would  take  higher  and  firmer  ground.  It 
is  the  only  course  consistent  with  truth,  and  will  alone  save 
our  country. 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE  in 

When  the  Indian  Mutiny  of  1857  broke  out,  George  Hig- 
ginson  wrote:  "India  news  gloomy,  but  who  can  doubt  that 
the  resolute  will  and  unflinching  valor  of  our  glorious  English 
blood  will  triumphantly  carry  the  day  through?"  But  his  son 
was  chafing  at  British  red  tape :  — 

The  "Times"  is  teeming  with  offers  from  educated,  energetic 
men  quite  ready  to  enlist  as  privates,  if  the  government  will 
give  them  a  decent  chance.  And  yet,  on  the  old  fools  plod 
with  their  cursed  red-tape  system,  "No  man  under  5  ft.  5  in. 
taken."  "No  man  without  family  and  fortune  to  be  an  officer," 
etc.,  etc.  It  is  enough  to  make  one  sick  to  see  their  horrid  in- 
dolence, slowness,  apathy.  Only  last  night  an  Englishman  said 
to  me,  "Oh,  they  are  sending  soldiers  out,  and  it  will  be  all 
right  directly."  Fool !  The  lesson  in  the  Crimea  has  done  them 
no  good.  With  the  best  stuff  in  the  world,  they  '11  make  a  botch 
of  it.  Why  should  they  send  men  in  sailing  vessels,  which  may 
be  five  months  on  the  way?  To  save  a  penny,  they  are  losing 
many  a  pound  and  many  a  life.  ...  It  almost  makes  me 
cry  to  read  the  accounts  of  the  abused,  murdered  women  and 
children  in  India. 

The  youth  was  already  what  he  remained  throughout  a  long 
life:  a  curiously  subtle  combination  of  warrior  and  philoso- 
pher. The  philosophy  is  ripe  in  this  letter  to  his  father,  who 
was  troubled  that  his  younger  sons  were  not  making  more 
rapid  progress  in  their  studies :  — 

Just  remember,  father,  men  are  differently  made,  and  be- 
cause a  boy  will  not  study  at  school  or  win  honors  at  college, 
he  is  not  necessarily  going  to  the  devil,  and  his  father  does  not 
need  to  wear  "a  thorn  in  his  heart"  or  feel  "deep  mental  an- 
guish." Take  the  boys  as  they  are,  mend  them  if  you  can,  and 
at  all  events  don't  worry.  You  only  chafe  yourself  and  them 
to  the  bone.   'T  is  not  the  way  to  cause  happiness  to  anyone, 


H2  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

yourself  or  them.  I  should  think  that  you  would,  in  the  course 
of  your  life,  have  found  pride  of  any  kind  a  most  wearing,  bur- 
densome article.  Do  not  be  proud  in  any  way;  take  and  give; 
it  is  the  usual  fault  of  good  people.  There  is  a  theory  that  a 
proper  kind  of  pride  is  a  good  thing;  there  never  was  such  non- 
sense —  vanity  is  better.  Just  think  once  again  in  a  quiet 
half-hour,  and  you  will  see  it.  Do  not  be  proud  or  ashamed  of 
your  children;  you're  not  responsible  for  them.  They  are 
beings  who  stand  on  their  own  legs,  and  have  volition  just 
like  you.  If  they  won't  do  what  you  wish,  don't  worry  about 
it.  I  dislike  exceedingly  to  see  you  day  by  day  wearing  your- 
self by  worrying  because  the  children  are  not  angels.  Be  at 
peace,  father,  make  lots  of  money,  and  enjoy  the  remainder 
of  your  days  on  this  ball.  If  you  cannot  get  pleasure  one  way, 
get  it  another. 

That  letter  was  written  in  August,  1857,  but  by  October 
there  was  news  from  home  of  a  far  more  ominous  nature  than 
defective  grades  in  the  Latin  School  and  Harvard.  It  was  the 
panic  of  1857.   George  Higginson  wrote:  — 

"A  whirlwind  of  terrible  power  and  significance  is  sweeping 
over  our  country,  prostrating  many  who  have  been  consid- 
ered staunch  and  almost  beyond  harm,  and  handling  all  so 
swiftly  that  the  most  serious  fears  are  entertained  of  the  safety 
of  large  numbers.  Most  of  the  Banks  south  of  New  York  and 
at  the  West  have  suspended  specie  payments.  We  still  reso- 
lutely believe  that  New  York  and  New  England  will  stand 
fast,  but  the  supply  of  coin  is  so  small  and  the  need  so  urgent 
that  there  is  doubt,  serious  doubt,  in  many  quarters.  The  storm 
is  cruelly  destructive.  Heaven  only  knows  when  and  how  it 
may  end,  but  it  is  sure  to  leave  a  host  crushed  and  stripped 
and  the  community  in  an  exhausted  state." 

Instantly  Henry  offered  to  give  up  his  cherished  plans  and 
come  home:  — 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        113 

Thank  God  you  can  lose  only  your  year's  income,  at  least 
have  no  capital  to  lose.  .  .  .  Now  tell  me,  old  father,  in  a 
quiet  moment,  shall  I  come  home?  Can  I  be  of  any  use  in  your 
office  to  you;  cannot  I  learn  to  do  some  of  your  work?  .  .  . 
As  I  have  already  written,  I  am  well  placed  and  started  here, 
but  it  seems  to  me  selfish  to  stay  here  studying,  leading  a 
quiet,  peaceful,  industrious  life,  while  you  are  struggling  so 
hard.  .  .  .  I  'd  start  for  America  directly,  but  it  seems  wiser 
to  await  your  answer,  which  will,  I  am  sure,  be  clear  and 
conclusive. 

Clear  and  conclusive  it  was :  — 

Oct.  27, 1857. 
Make  no  change  in  your  plans  at  present.  You  could  not 
help  us  or  me  in  office-work,  for  we  really  never  had  less  to  do. 
I  am  in  firmest  health.  Your  steady  and  deep-seated  affection 
and  willingness  to  sacrifice  I  needed  no  assurance  of,  nor  do  I 
from  any  one  of  my  children,  for  well  I  know  where  the  true 
hearts  are.  Yet  I  cannot  but  be  touched  by  your  words.  There 
is  nought  to  do  but  wait  patiently,  gather  up  the  materials 
that  remain  and  proceed  as  usual.  All  will  be  poorer,  but  in  a 
new  set  of  values.  Don't  give  yourself  the  least  uneasiness 
about  me,  my  dear  son,  nor  any  of  us.  Thank  God  we  are  all  in 
vigorous  health.  My  partners  give  all  necessary  aid  to  our 
work,  but  report  that  we  are  truly  without  employment.  Go 
on  as  you  are,  spend  prudently,  cutting  off  indulgences. 

It  is  beautiful  to  read  your  letter  written  in  the  midst  of  the 
storm  [replied  the  son].  No  one  is  so  calm  here.  You  're  not 
the  old  fool  you  think  yourself.  I  am  studying  music  here,  that 
I  may  be  like  you;  and  that  I  may  have  some  unfailing  re- 
source if  money  does  run  away. 

I  cannot  sufficiently  admire  [he  added  a  few  days  later]  your 
perfect  equanimity  about  money  matters.  At  53  and  penniless 


ii4  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

almost,  you  see  your  income  cut  down,  for  the  present  at  least, 
without  anything  more  than  a  smile.  ...  I  did  not  foresee 
your  wonderful  balance.  .  .  .  John  [Bancroft]  thinks  you  are 
only  saved  from  perfection  by  writing  an  illegible  hand. 

George  Higginson  wrote  on  November  4 :  — 
"  I  am  very  well  off,  far  above  many,  many  of  those  about  us 
that  we  care  for.  So  please  dismiss  my  condition  so  far  as  re- 
gards 'ten-penny  subsistence'  from  your  mind.  The  children 
are  hardly  fair  judges  of  office-work.  Mine  has  not  been  severe 
and,  for  the  last  five  weeks,  very,  very  light;  witness  our  re- 
ceipts in  way  of  commissions  for  October  were  so  small,  say 
S500.  Office  rent,  clerk  hire,  etc.,  cost  us  more  than  $300.  The 
truth  is,  the  strain  on  nerves  and  anxiety  of  mind  have  been 
the  chief  burdens  to  all  of  us,  especially  so  to  my  partners;  but 
don't,  I  pray,  indulge  in  reflections  or  expressions  with  regard 
to  their  performances.  .  .  .  The  worst  is  over,  I  believe ;  there 
will  be  more  failures  doubtless,  but  on  the  whole  improvement, 
more  confidence  and  returning  ease.  ...  So  give  yourself  no 
uneasiness,  my  dear  child,  on  our  account.  We  are  mighty  well 
off,  God  be  thanked.  The  few  trivial  privations  will  be  most 
cheerfully  borne,  and  will  do  good.  Besides,  what  are  they? 
too  insignificant  to  be  told  over.  You  children  will  not  I  think 
lose  more,  except  in  dividends  and  shrinkage  of  stocks.  Stay 
where  you  are  for  the  winter,  by  all  means,  carry  out  your 
plans,  spend  prudently." 

By  November  14  Henry  was  philosophizing  over  the  general 
situation,  in  a  strain  which  is  curiously  like  his  conversation 
and  letters  in  the  panic  of  1907,  fifty  years  afterward:  — 

Looking  at  the  thing  from  a  philosophical  point  of  view,  this 
crisis  is  a  very  useful  event  for  our  country.  People  stop,  add 
up  their  accounts,  ascertain  the  truth  concerning  their  money, 
see  their  awful  pace,  give  up  much  of  their  wicked  extrava- 
gance, discover  the  difference  between  necessaries  and  luxuries, 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        115 

go  to  work  again,  and  they  are  wiser  men.  It  stops  the  too 
great  rush  into  trade,  shows  the  danger  of  too  extended  credit, 
proves  that  one  man  cannot  well  do  a  dozen  things  at  a  time, 
and  that  we  need  railroad  directors  who  will  work  and  not 
play,  etc.,  etc.  It  makes  more  room  for  young  men,  and  more 
room  for  every  man,  and  it  turns  the  wheel  which  carries  the 
rich  and  the  educated  down  and  brings  the  poor  and  the 
ignorant  up  to  be  educated  and  refined.  It  is  a  most  effectual 
instrument  for  putting  life  and  energy  into  our  Republic.  If  we 
had  no  such  troubles,  the  poor  people  would  begin  to  think 
equality,  etc.,  was  a  joke,  and  the  rich  people  would  agree  with 
them.  Of  course,  much  suffering  results  from  it,  but  it  is 
healthy.  There  was  a  growing  belief  that  all  that  was  needed 
to  be  rich  was  to  become  a  merchant.  In  the  meantime,  the 
country  is  very  rich  and  powerful,  and  has  enormous  resources. 
All  the  real  wealth  is  still  in  the  land. 

"The  fury  of  the  hurricane  has  passed,"  the  father  wrote  in 
November,  "yet  we  shall  remain  in  a  state  of  lassitude  and  in- 
action for  many  months.  The  percentage  of  loss  on  Calcutta 
cargoes  is  terrific." 

Highly  characteristic  is  his  letter  of  December  21 :  — 
"With  regard  to  my  own  state  of  health,  never  was  it  better. 
Never  have  I  had  so  much  flesh  on  my  bones  as  now.  I  am  en- 
tirely free  from  ailments.  With  regard  to  your  admiration  of 
what  you  call  'equanimity  touching  money  affairs,'  I  thank 
you  and  John  from  my  heart,  but  the  commendation  is  clearly 
and  simply  undeserved.  I  am  penniless  almost,  but  such  is  the 
lot  of  large  numbers  around  me.  Besides,  I  am  perfectly  well, 
although  with  lessening  powers  of  performance.  I  have  the 
good-will  and  am  sure  of  cheerful  cooperation  from  many 
friends  in  our  midst,  from  which  I  may  reasonably  look  for  a 
competency  so  long  as  health  and  strength  are  given  me.  The 
'complacency'  or  'equanimity'  you  allude  to  is  the  result  of 
no  forethought,  self-discipline,  nor  mental  struggle,  but  simply 


n6  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

of  temperament.  Would  not  some  define  it  as  indifference  and 
neglect  of  the  future?  It  arises  in  part,  perhaps,  from  the 
sickening  exhibitions  one  sees  of  men  thrown  into  unhappiness 
and  most  unchristian  states  of  mind  and  heart  by  partial 
losses,  or  apprehended  losses  of  property,  while  many  blessings 
of  a  far  more  solid  character  are  vouchsafed  to  them.  This 
senseless  worry  of  mind  about  matters  so  fleeting  is  vexatious 
and  disgusting,  as  if  supreme  enjoyment  centred  therein.  I 
have  been  highly  favored  by  nature  and  in  circumstance,  and 
ought  to  look  kindly  and  charitably  on  the  mental  distresses 
of  those  of  other  mental  states.  Your  pleasing  views,  my  son, 
of  your  old  father's  merits,  are,  believe  me,  illusions.  A 
just  arbiter  at  the  scales  would  present  a  widely  varying 
conclusion. 

A  whimsical  letter  about  family  finances,  written  by  Henry 
to  his  sister  Mary  just  before  Christmas,  1857,  is  full  of  "Hig- 
gisms,"  and  may  fitly  close  the  chronicle  of  the  panic  year. 

.  .  .  James  has  written  me  a  detailed  account  of  your 
economy  of  living.  It  is  good  for  you  all.  In  the  language  of 
that  great  man,  Dad,  "The  practice  is  excellent."  In  that 
luxurious  style  of  life,  which  was  supplanting  our  original 
simple  habits,  you  and  Frank  were  rapidly  sinking  from  that 
high  moral  standard,  that  habit  of  self-denial  which  has  formed 
the  fine  characters  of  your  three  elder  brothers,  of  whom  you 
are  so  justly  proud.  You  were  sinking  into  silks,  velvets, 
Brussels  carpets,  beef-steaks,  jams,  "birds."  Frank  was  get- 
ting a  confirmed,  settled  belief  that  he  was  the  son  of  a  rich 
man,  whereas  his  father  is  in  reality  a  pauper,  who  would  go  to 
the  almshouse  from  mere  necessity  in  case  of  accident.  Our 
youngest  brother  was  becoming  a  Sybarite ;  indeed  was  already 
one.  Even  now  it  is,  I  fancy,  hard  to  win  him  from  his  luxuri- 
ous habits.  Does  he  bring  wood  and  coal  in  old  (once  used, 
that  is)  yellow  gloves,  and  shovel  snow  in  soiled  whites?  I 
should  like  to  see  him  dressing  for  school.   Something  pretty 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        117 

elaborate,  is  n't  it?  But  on  Sunday  a  beaver,  yellow  kids, 
cane,  straps,  very  short  coat,  very  tight  pants.  Really  does  he 
wax  his  moustache?   His  imperial  is  hardly  heavy  yet,  I  fancy. 

You  see  the  effect  of  wealth  in  your  father's  family.  We 
three  were  brought  up  on  the  no-butter  system,  everything 
economical;  you  two  younger  ones  on  the  lots-of -butter  sys- 
tem and  "birds"  to  match.  Here  are  the  gradations.  George, 
from  education  and  from  principle,  is  truly  careful  (sometimes 
close  in  his  own  affairs,  tho'  he  'd  give  me  all  his  money  to-mor- 
row) with  money.  I,  from  education,  am  also  careful,  but  from 
want  of  principle  and  from  wild  theories,  am  occasionally  care- 
less; we  are  both  sternly  opposed  to  luxurious  living  in  food, 
clothing  or  show,  and  have  urged  our  father  not  to  indulge  his 
offspring  so  much;  our  James  was,  from  education,  careful;  but 
corrupted  by  the  times  and  led  away  by  an  easy,  generous, 
rather  careless  nature,  inclines  to  luxury  and  extravagance, 
tho'  his  education  sometimes  comes  up  before  him,  reminding 
him  of  his  folly ;  while  you  and  Frank,  from  education  and  ease 
totally  corrupted,  have  no  clear  idea  of  self-restraint  or  econ- 
omy. You  are  a  pair  of  Sybarites.  Your  common  sense  occa- 
sionally tells  you  that  you  are  not  doing  right,  but  habit 
rules  you. 

I  am  in  earnest  for  the  most  part  on  this  matter.  .  .  . 
There  is  not  a  glutton,  gourmand,  or  a  drunkard  among  us, 
nor  is  there  one  whose  happiness  depends  at  all  on  luxurious 
food,  on  curtains,  on  carpets,  etc.,  on  clothes,  on  show,  on 
living  as  well  as  our  neighbors,  .  .  .  tho'  you  have  sometimes 
made  yourself  unhappy,  because  our  house  was  not  so  hand- 
somely furnished  as  Mr.  A's  or  Mr.  B's.  Your  father  was 
gradually  yielding  to  this  and  that  wish  and  whim  of  yours  or 
his  in  decoration,  was  keeping  too  many  domestics,  was  in- 
dulging us  all  in  too  many  titbits,  etc.,  etc.  He  is  stopped  short 
and  I  am  very  glad.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  vain  or  arrogant,  but, 
you  know,  I  had  opposed  these  things  frequently  from  a  firm 
belief  that  they  were  injurious  to  us  all,  and  that  they  were 


n8  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

immoral,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word.  I  could  see  no  reason 
why  we  should  thus  spend  money,  when  others  needed  it.  It 
made  me  uncomfortable.  I  am  aware  that  many  of  the  con- 
veniences, which  were  really  luxuries,  I  accepted.  Education, 
mental  enjoyment,  real  enjoyment  of  any  kind,  I  am  in  favor 
of;  such  as  a  summer  place,  etc.,  etc. ;  but  show  in  any  way  and 
pampering  of  the  stomach  is  to  me  disgusting.  If  we  were 
getting  luxurious  and  extravagant,  just  consider  how  far  other 
people  had  advanced  in  that  way.  This  trouble  may  cause 
much  misery  among  all  classes,  but  it  is  our  only  corrector  of 
extravagance  and  luxury. 

Your  father  is  a  curious  mixture.  Here  is  an  instance  of  his 
extravagance,  indulgence  towards  his  children.  The  class-day 
of  my  class,  father  said  to  me  in  the  afternoon,  "Jim  came  to 
town  this  morning,  and  asked  me  for  a  few  bottles  of  claret." 
"What  did  you  do?"  asked  I.  "I  sent  him  a  box"  (12  bot- 
tles), said  he;  "but,  Henry,  what  do  you  suppose  he  means  to 
do  with  it?"  "Why,  confound  it,  old  daddy,  drink  it,  of 
course!  What  do  you  suppose?"  There  he  is,  all  over.  As 
aforesaid,  he  is  a  pauper,  and  always  will  be  on  this  earth,  but 
he  has  a  heap  of  riches  in  heaven.  You  had  better  keep  close 
to  him  there,  for  he  will  be  one  of  the  nobs.  How  they  '11  shout, 
when  he  goes  up.  "Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!" 
and  repeat  several  times.  You  just  state  on  arriving  that  you 
are  a  connection  of  his,  and  there  will  be  no  further  trouble. 

At  least  so  I  should  do,  if  I  were  going  there,  but  I  've  de- 
cided to  go  somewhere  else.  It  is  just  like  a  bed  six  feet  high 
that  we  had  in  Italy.  It  was  necessary  to  get  a  run  in  order  to 
spring  upon  it.  The  room  was  too  small  for  that,  so  we  had  to 
get  on  another  bed,  and  then  jump  across  a  chasm  to  the  high 
article,  at  the  risk  of  falling  and  breaking  our  necks.  Just  so  I 
should  have  to  get  upon  a  heap  of  my  virtues,  and  then  jump 
to  heaven.  Now  my  heap  is  not  high  enough  to  make  it  a  very 
safe  experiment,  so  I  have  decided  to  seek  another  bed,  another 
place.   But  you  had  better  go  with  your  father.   It  is  said  to  be 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        119 

very  pleasant  there,  nothing  to  do  but  to  sing  choruses :  all  the 
voices  are  naturally  fine. 

As  I  wrote  Jim,  you  are  unwise  to  give  up  the  Christmas 
dinner.  You  should  have  some  pea-soup,  a  big  piece  of  halibut, 
and  some  beef  and  pudding,  quite  plain;  sherry,  but  no 
champagne  or  anything  else  to  drink.  It  would  cost  very  little, 
if  you  will  exclude  all  "fancies,"  and  might  be  very  pleasant, 
especially  in  these  low  times.  Have  an  everyday  dinner,  and 
trust  to  the  ''flow  of  soul."  The  dinner  should  be  an  institu- 
tion. .  .  . 

The  New  Year  opened  merrily  with  a  visit  to  brother  Jim 
(who  had  graduated  from  Harvard  and  come  to  Germany  for 
further  study)  and  John  Bancroft  at  Berlin.  The  letter  is  a 
joint  product  of  these  three  boys. 

Christmas  Day  —  Berlin. 
Dear  Father  :  — 

Merry  Christmas  to  you  all !  Here  are  Jimmy,  Johnny  and  I 
in  the  former's  room,  scribbling  with  fingers  stiff  with  cold. 
I  've  no  record  and  have  forgotten  all  numbers.  With  the  New 
Year  shall  number  my  series  "  B. " 

These  lazy  boys  could  n't  be  induced  to  go  to  Vienna,  al- 
though Jim  had  never  seen  the  place  and  Johnny  but  little;  so 
I  came  up  here.  The  boys  are  very  well  in  looks  and  in  reality. 
The  journey  up  here  was  a  bit  severe,  for  we  had  a  snow-storm 
of  several  days  which  blocked  up  the  railroads ;  thus  we  had  to 
wait  one  day  to  start,  and  then  were  26  hours  to  Dresden  in- 
stead of  23  to  Berlin.  The  car  was  built  of  wood  and  pitched 
within  and  without.  [Handwriting  now  changes.]  When  the 
cats  are  away,  dear  Mr.  Higginson,  the  mice  will  play,  and 
Henry  having  at  this  moment  his  mouth  full  of  roast  goose,  the 
quill  has  fallen  into  my  hands. 

(Dresden,  Jan.  1st.)  We  meant  to  send  you  a  united  Merry 
Christmas  from  Berlin,  and  fate  will  have  it  that  it  subsides 


120  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

into  a  Happy  New  Year  from  Dresden.  There  never  was  such 
a  representation  of  Cambridge  in  Dresden  before.  We  are 
eight  birds  of  passage,  and  found  two  who  have  nests  here. 
And  so  we  fill  up  almost  a  hotel,  overflow  the  restaurants,  and 
talk  over  old  times  and  old  friends,  and  are  all  agreed  that 
Boston  is  better  than  any  place  here,  and  people  beyond  com- 
parison, and  that  it  does  n't  pay  to  come  back  to  foreign  cities 
where  you  left  pleasant  associations,  for  they  thrive  but  poorly 
in  foreign  soil. 

Henry,  you  will  be  happy  to  hear,  has  lost  flesh,  and  now 
can  fairly  be  taken  as  a  model  of  grace,  elegance  and  manly 
beauty.  I  sometimes  urge  him  to  go  to  Diisseldorf  with  me, 
that  I  may  draw  him  in  various  postures;  but,  modest  as  ever, 
he  declines. 

[Handwriting  changes  again.]  Henry  and  John  have  both 
done  their  parts  in  this  letter,  dear  Pa,  and  so  I  must  do  mine. 
We  are  having  a  real  pleasant  time  together  here  in  spite  of 
cloudy  weather  and  a  stupid  theatre.  Henry  rushes  about 
energetically,  wakes  us  in  the  morning,  makes  innumerable 
calls,  and  tries  perseveringly  to  smoke  in  the  intervals.  John 
and  I  wander  around  with  the  rest  of  the  party,  go  to  concerts, 
etc.,  etc. 

Next  week  we  separate  and  all  go  their  way  —  about  half 
the  number  with  Henry  towards  Vienna  and  the  rest  to  Leip- 
zig, these  to  see  the  famous  fair  always  held  in  that  city  at 
the  New  Year,  and  swarming  with  people  from  every  quarter 
of  the  globe.  I  filled  my  purse  well  in  Berlin,  having  an  eye  to 
purchases  at  the  fair.  Meanwhile,  you  are  no  doubt  thinking 
of  us,  and  that  we  do  the  same  by  you  does  not  need  this  letter 
to  tell  you.  It  is  a  pleasant  way  to  end  the  Old  Year  and  begin 
the  New,  such  a  coming  together  as  this. 

But  the  shadow  of  a  great  disappointment  was  all  the  time 
deepening,  a  disappointment  destined  to  affect  Henry's  whole 
career.   He  had  written  on  December  I,  1857:  — 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        121 

When  I  last  wrote,  a  fearful  headache  of  three  days'  dura- 
tion was  troubling  me.  I  went  to  the  greatest  physician  here, 
Oppolzer,  a  very  renowned  man;  he  was  out  of  town,  so  I  went 
to  a  bleeder,  and  got  rid  of  8  ounces  of  blood  —  a  tumblerful. 
He  would  not  take  any  more  tho'  I  urged  him  to  do  so.  In 
fifteen  minutes  the  pressure,  which  had  been  tremendous,  was 
nearly  gone,  and  the  next  day  (Sunday)  I  was  quite  well.  On 
Monday  and  Tuesday  I  played  with  my  left  arm  (the  one 
opened),  and  not  considering  the  effect  of  such  exercise,  lamed 
it  badly.  I  have  since  seen  Oppolzer.  He  says  the  affliction  is 
neuralgia  (that  I  supposed)  and  gave  me  quinine  to  take  daily, 
forbade  cold  bathing,  ordered  cold  water  on  the  head  when  in 
pain,  and  in  the  morning.  I  am  now  using  these  remedies,  and 
am  better.  ...  I  shall  write  less  in  future.  The  music  de- 
mands eight  hours  a  day,  and  I  must  study  the  languages  and 
read  a  bit  beside;  then  other  necessary  demands  are  made  on 
my  time,  such  as  two  lectures  a  week,  a  weekly  evening  at  the 
Minister's  unavoidably,  etc.,  etc.  I  have  nine  music  lessons  a 
week,  and  must  crowd  sail  as  much  as  possible,  so  letters  will 
be  less  frequent. 

Less  than  a  week  later  he  wrote :  — 

I  am  industrious  and  in  earnest  about  my  work.  My  only 
fear  is  that  I  am  trying  too  much  at  a  time.  However,  if  I  can 
bear  eight  hours  per  day,  the  burden  is  not  too  heavy.  My 
only  mistake  was  the  using  of  my  arm  too  soon  after  bleeding, 
and  thus  laming  it  for  three  weeks.  ...  I  have  taken  up 
music  and  will  give  it  a  good  trial.  ...  I  cannot  now  wisely 
listen  to  plans  for  making  money.  .  .  .  Charley  prophesied 
that  I  should  be  at  home  in  a  year,  and  that  I  should  become  a 
merchant  and  a  rich  man.  Heaven  knows;  but  I  do  believe 
that  the  spirit  of  trade  is  in  my  veins,  tho'  other  things  may  be 
more  agreeable  to  me.  Let  the  thing  take  its  natural  course 
and  don't  worry  about  my  future.  .  .  .  Believe  me,  I  am  not 


122  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

vain  of  my  own  abilities,  but  I  am  sure  of  getting  a  living  (not 
$10,000  per  annum)  by  hook  or  by  crook.  I  could  make  myself 
a  useful  clerk  for  $500  a  year;  but  the  thing  takes  its  course. 

It  is  a  bad  climate  [he  wrote  on  December  31],  one  catches 
cold  constantly,  and  a  cold  in  the  head  brings  on  neuralgia 
often,  or  a  hot  concert  will  do  it.  I  shaved  my  face  clean  in  the 
fall,  and  have  therefore  caught  cold  in  my  throat  often.  To-day 
I  can  hardly  speak,  much  less  sing.  It  is  bad  luck.  My  arm 
that  was  bled  is  not  thoroughly  strong  yet.  It  is  exceedingly 
provoking  to  lose  my  time  so. 

[A  month  later.]  My  infernal  arm  is  not  well  yet,  tho'  bet- 
ter. .  .  .  I  am  getting  on  very  well,  singing  and  writing  a  good 
deal,  and  also  playing  with  my  right  hand.  Every  day  I  am 
better  satisfied  with  my  occupation,  and  were  my  arm  only 
well,  I  should  be  contented. 

[On  March  11.]  My  arm  and  shoulder  are  still  lame  and 
prevent  me  from  playing.  I  've  lost  five  months'  practice.  .  .  . 

[On  June  22.]  My  arm  is  an  accursed  limb.  I  swim  it  daily 
in  a  fine  bath,  and  then  get  it  magnetized.  It  is  a  little  better, 
but  to-day  for  instance  hurts  me.  ...  In  September  it  will 
have  to  go ;  but  only  think,  it  will  be  eleven  months  of  practice, 
tho'  not  of  time,  lost. 

[On  July  18.]  I  am  going  to  some  baths  in  Styria  in  a  few 
days  for  my  arm,  by  advice  of  my  Dr.  and  of  Oppolzer,  to  be 
there  six  weeks  or  less.  .  .  .  About  my  studies:  I  sing  two 
hours  a  day,  sometimes  more,  and  have  three  singing-lessons  a 
week.  But  the  chief  work  is  on  the  harmony,  etc.,  the  form  of 
music-pieces,  etc.,  work  hardly  explicable  to  one  ignorant  of 
composition.  It  is  very  interesting,  pretty  hard,  and  quite 
tedious  from  the  amount  of  manual  work  necessary.  Then  I 
have  some  German  books  and  some  English  always  on  hand. 
In  the  fall  I  '11  play  certainly. 

[On  August  30,  from  Markt-Tuffer  in  Styria.]  About  my 
arm,  I  cannot  say  that  it  is  better  than  before  coming;  yet  I 
think  improvement  has  taken  place.  Henry  Bigelow's  opinion 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        123 

I  believe  wrong.  There  is  no  sharp,  indeed  almost  no  pain: 
weakness  is  the  prevailing  sensation,  particularly  in  the  two 
lesser  fingers  and  in  the  muscles  leading  thereto.  .  .  .  The 
foot  is  as  it  was  and  always  will  be.  About  returning  home, 
father:  I  have  already  written  you  that  my  arrangements  are 
made  for  another  year  from  Sept.  1st  in  Vienna.  How  can  I 
return  when  my  object  is  music,  and  I  've  been  unable  to  play 
at  all  the  whole  year?  Besides,  what  is  there  in  America  par- 
ticularly tempting  in  business,  and  what  is  there  out  of 
business  for  me? 

[On  October  19,  from  Vienna.]  As  to  the  arm:  I've  been  to 
the  first  authority  here  on  nervous  diseases.  .  .  .  The  arm  is 
probably  injured  for  life,  not  seriously,  but  so  far  that  I  shall 
not  be  able  to  play  the  piano  very  long  at  a  time.  .  .  .  When 
I  look  back  at  those  six  weeks  I  played,  I  could  cry  heartily. 
It  is  a  hard  line  for  me;  cuts  deeper  than  you  think.  What  I 
had  wished  for  years  was  at  hand,  with  every  possible  help; 
and  in  that  time  I  really  learned  much.  Now  it  is  over  forever; 
I  can  never  play  freely  again.  I  almost  wonder  that  I  managed 
to  bear  so  much  as  I  did.  If  you  will  sit  down,  and  play  the 
same  five  keys  with  your  five  fingers  for  five  minutes,  you'll 
feel  it  sharply  in  your  arms  as  I  did  then ;  yet  I  forced  myself  to 
play  about  two  hours  (with  many  intervals  of  course)  these 
same  things,  and  besides  to  read  and  play  pieces  two,  three,  and 
four  hours  a  day.  .  .  . 

Thus  a  young  man  ruins  himself.  I  came  home  and  swore 
like  a  pirate  for  a  day;  then,  coming  to  my  senses,  I  decided  to 
sing  away,  study  composition,  etc.,  hard,  magnetize,  and  await 
results. 

[On  November  9.]  My  lessons  go  on,  my  voice  and  throat 
are  in  pretty  fair  condition.  You  may  not  remember  that  my 
throat  troubled  me  in  the  spring  from  irritation  caused  by  sing- 
ing, and  gave  me  cause  to  fear  a  fever.  The  physician  warned 
me  in  time,  and  at  last  it  got  pretty  well.  .  .  .  My  voice  is 
decent  and  plenty  strong  enough  for  a  room  but  not  for  a  hall, 


124  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

etc.  My  studies  in  composition  get  on  and  are  interesting,  but 
they  give  me  hard  and  long  work.  I  am  hoping  to  play  in 
January,  but  not  at  all  sure  about  it.  The  trouble  is  the  most 
strange  and  inopportune  infliction  possible. 

These  comments  on  the  physical  condition  of  the  would-be 
musician,  when  massed  in  this  fashion,  give  perhaps  a  too  mel- 
ancholy coloring  to  the  year  1858.  But  though  it  was  a  year  of 
hope  deferred,  its  disappointments  were  sturdily  borne,  and  it 
gave  opportunity  for  new  friendships  and  new  mental  horizons. 
In  his  large,  sunny  room  in  the  fifth  story,  looking  down  on 
one  of  the  gayest  of  Viennese  market-places,  young  Higginson 
entertained  many  promising  Austrian  musicians.  Mr.  George 
W.  Lippitt,  Secretary  of  the  American  Legation,  introduced 
him  to  the  family  of  his  father-in-law,  a  wealthy  merchant 
named  Miller,  whose  nine  children,  ranging  from  ten  to  thirty- 
five,  welcomed  Henry  Higginson  and  Powell  Mason  most 
cordially.  The  day's  routine  was  Spartan  in  its  severity.  "  I 
get  up  about  half-past  six  and  go  to  bed  about  eleven  to  half- 
past:  have  nine  music  lessons  a  week,  and  two  lectures.  It  re- 
quires fully  8  hours  a  day,  and  that  is  the  limit  of  my  present 
power."  His  diet  was  too  low  for  a  young  fellow  weighing  be- 
tween 170  and  180:  "Bread  to  the  amount  of  four  or  five  mod- 
erate bread-cakes  with  my  coffee  in  the  morning,  at  two  o'clock 
some  soup  (always  thin),  one  slice  of  boiled  beef  and  potatoes, 
and  six  apples  during  the  day,  —  no  wine,  no  beer,  usually  no 
supper,  occasionally  a  bit  of  pudding  at  dinner." 

One  explanation  of  these  forced  economies  is  betrayed  in  a 
letter  to  his  father:  "A  large  portion  of  my  yearly  expenses  are 
not  for  myself.  ...  I  sometimes  curse  myself  for  trying  to 
help  others  when  I  've  not  enough  for  my  own  real  wants,  but 
again  think  that  money  well  used  is  not  wasted."  At  the  end 
of  the  year  it  appeared  that  he  had  "given  away  over  $500; 
don't  mention  this  to  anyone.  Were  the  money  only  in  my 
pocket  now!    In  Tiiffer  I  thought  myself  safe,  but  one  poor 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        125 

woman  was  ill,  could  n't  work,  and  had  no  money.   I  could  n't 
help  giving  her  something,  and  then  there  were  other  cases." 

His  expense  account  for  the  year  1858  shows  that  his  in- 
vested capital  of  about  $13,000,  somewhat  impaired  by  the 
panic  of  1857,  had  brought  him  in  only  $455.62,  while  he  had 
spent  upon  himself  $1100:  "no  riotous  living,  tho'  more  than 
I  wish  it  were."  It  should  be  added  that  his  private  ventures 
in  indigo  netted  him  in  1858  precisely  $1154.97,  a  trifle  more 
than  his  personal  expenses! 

A  curious  example  of  his  interest  in  business,  coexisting 
with  hard  work  on  counterpoint  and  thorough-bass,  is  his 
scheme  for  getting  Charles  Lowell  to  join  him  in  buying  a  small 
Austrian  brewery,  through  his  friend  Miller.  "It  is  really  a 
great  chance,"  Henry  wrote.  "It  is  possible  that  I  could  be 
brewer  and  study  music  too,  although  it  is  far  better  to  do  one 
thing  at  a  time.  .  .  .  Vienna  is  certainly  a  pleasanter  home 
than  India  or  China."  But  Lowell  "doubted  his  own  strength," 
and  the  project  came  to  nothing. 

Among  his  "excellent,  warm  friends,"  in  Vienna  he  men- 
tions his  piano-teacher,  "a  most  captivating  man  and  a  great 
artist,  two  years  older  than  I  am;  another,  a  violin-player  in 
the  opera,  a  beauty,  a  prime  fellow.  These  are  both  Jews;  and 
I  never  saw  a  Jew  before  coming  here;  but  those  whom  I  have 
known  in  Vienna  are  very  talented,  true,  liberal  in  views  of  life 
and  religion,  and  free-handed  to  a  marvelous  extent." 

"You  allude,"  wrote  George  Higginson  in  reply,  "to  the 
Jew  friends  you  have  among  the  musicians.  You  are  favored, 
for  I  have  rarely  met  individuals  of  that  race  who  seemed  fitted 
in  solid  essentials  for  an  intimacy  of  such  a  character.  I  am 
thankful  that  really  worthy  ones  have  fallen  in  your  way." 

Both  father  and  son,  it  may  be  noted  here,  agreed  that  it 
was  better  to  burn  all  letters,  and  both  father  and  son  kept  all 
letters  with  the  most  scrupulous  care!  "A  letter  should  be  an- 
swered directly,  while  the  matter  is  still  full  of  life  and  plastic," 
wrote  Henry  to  his  sister  from  Markt-Tiiffer;  and  his  own 


126  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

letters  of  this  period,  now  sad,  now  stoical,  now  touched  with 
quaint,  whimsical  "Higgisms,"  are  surely  "full  of  life."  He  is 
angry  that  a  rich  Bostonian  has  died  without  leaving  public 
bequests:  "He  ought  to  have  helped  the  College  and  the  Hos- 
pital and  the  Boston  Library  and  the  theatre  and  the  model 
lodging-houses."  His  anti-slavery  passion  flares  out  in  this 
note  about  Sumner,  who  was  in  Europe  recovering  from  the 
dastardly  attack  by  Brooks :  — 

Mr.  Charles  Sumner  was  here  only  a  few  days;  I  went  to 
call  on  him  as  a  fellow  citizen  and  as  an  acquaintance  of  our 
family.  He  was  very  cordial  and  pleasant  indeed.  Do  you 
know  how  the  poor  man  has  suffered  from  the  brutality  prac- 
tised on  him?  He  has  been  undergoing  a  very  severe  course  of 
treatment  in  Paris,  and  is  now  somewhat  better;  but  I  fancy 
he  is  ruined  for  life.  They  burned  his  back  in  Paris,  so  that  he 
could  not  sit  in  a  carriage  for  months.  Mr.  Jackson,  our  min- 
ister here,  and  Mr.  Stiles  (the  U.S.  Consul)  and  the  other 
Southerners  always  laugh,  when  he  is  spoken  of,  and  say  it  is 
all  sham  on  his  part. 

His  comment  on  the  completion  of  the  Atlantic  cable  like- 
wise shows  how  his  mind  was  working  on  politics:  — 

The  greatest  work  of  the  age  is  done :  the  Atlantic  telegraph 
is  laid;  it  is  truly  something  for  the  English  and  our  people  to 
be  proud  of.  Nothing  like  pluck ;  people  here  said  that  it  would 
never  be  laid,  etc.  It  is  done;  if  broken  hereafter,  can  be  done 
again.  Moreover,  it  is  an  iron  link  against  the  worst  war  for 
the  world.  If  we  only  hold  together,  the  other  nations  here 
may  raise  the  devil.  The  English  will  soon  get  a  real,  able 
Liberal  cabinet,  which  will  put  reforms  into  action  and  use; 
and  we  will  have  an  anti-slavery  government  of  what  name 
you  please. 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        127 

So  the  weeks  grew  months  and  the  months  years,  and  1858 
was  followed  by  1859,  and  Henry  Higginson  was  still  waiting 
for  the  improvement  that  never  came.  A  photograph  of  this 
period,  given  to  his  friend  A.  W.  Thayer,  who  was  in  Austria 
working  on  his  monumental  "Life  of  Beethoven,"  tells  the 
story  of  disappointed  hopes  better  than  any  words.  It  is  the 
saddest,  the  most  wistful  of  all  the  Higginson  photographs. 
But  his  letters  during  1859  are  singularly  uncomplaining,  and 
he  was  finding  in  himself  and  in  the  companionship  of  musical 
friends  sources  of  quiet  happiness.  The  year  1858  had  ended 
with  a  jolly  visit  to  "Jim"  and  John  Bancroft  at  Dresden;  but 
on  New  Year's  Day  he  is  back  in  Vienna,  frequenting  the 
society  of  his  Jewish  "chum"  Epstein,  and  wondering  whether 
the  threatened  war  between  Austria  and  France  and  Sardinia 
will  interrupt  his  studies.  When  the  Austrian  army  was  sud- 
denly mobilized,  he  wrote  to  his  father:  — 

A  friend  of  ours,  physician  in  a  regiment  stationed  here,  the 
other  day  came  to  dinner  and  said,  "We  march  to-morrow 
for  Italy."  By  Jove,  they  all  went  at  11  the  next  morning 
—  twenty  hours  —  and  another  regiment  marched  six  hours 
earlier  than  they.  Our  friend  had  quite  a  little  practice  here, 
was  pleasantly  situated,  and  not  at  all  prepared  for  any- 
thing of  this  kind.  He  had  no  time  to  collect  his  bills  (about 
$400),  and  wishing  very  much  to  pay  his  debts,  I  lent  him 
money  to  do  so.  I  suppose  that  you  '11  consider  this  careless; 
and  yet  for  a  good  friend  and  a  reliable  man  as  he  is,  I  could 
do  no  less. 

George  Higginson  did  not  approve  this  loan.  "  If  war  comes," 
he  added,  "do  not,  as  you  love  me,  place  your  life  in  danger. 
Return  at  once.  With  all  the  new  appliances  at  command,  the 
game  will  be  fearfully  destructive." 

When  the  short  and  bloody  campaign  in  Lombardy  was  at 
its  full  fury,  Henry  wrote:  — 


128  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

You  will  have  read  ere  this  of  the  tremendous  battle  [Sol- 
ferino]  on  the  24th  inst.,  between  the  two  great  armies. 
Heaven  only  knows  why  the  French  conquered,  for  these  Aus- 
trians  fight  like  devils.  The  regiments  that  were  in  Vienna  last 
winter  are  half  gone  to  another  world.  .  .  .  One  of  the  Jager 
battalions — Tyrolese  skirmishers  properly — went  into  this 
battle,  and  none  came  back.  ...  In  this  war  the  men  seem 
to  be  much  embittered  and  some  of  them  show  great  brutality. 
.  .  .  You  know  the  crimes  and  outrages  of  war,  and  can 
easily  imagine  all ;  in  truth  very  few  men  of  education  easily 
restrain  themselves  after  12  hours  of  bloodshed. 

Save  for  his  characteristically  reckless  loans  and  charities, 
he  was  living  very  closely,  and  even  giving  a  few  lessons  in 
English  to  eke  out  his  income.  "  The  concerts  cost  me  nothing 
almost.  I  don't  smoke,  drink  or  eat  costly  food,  do  not  drive, 
rarely  use  a  coach,  though  they  're  cheap  and  the  city  is  large; 
my  clothes  very  little." 

Quite  too  little,  the  respectable  George  Higginson  thought. 
"I  have  heard  two  or  three  times  from  our  countrymen  who 
have  seen  you  in  Vienna  that  your  street  dress  is  rather  pecu- 
liar and  shabby.  If  such  is  the  truth,  let  me  request  you  to 
consider  more  favorably  what  the  personal  appearance  of  one 
of  your  class  should  be.  Dress  reputably  always,  which  you 
can  do  without  approach  to  extravagance." 

"Pray  who  told  you  that  I  dress  shabbily  in  Vienna  — 
Powell?"  the  son  replied.  "It  is  done  from  motives  of  econ- 
omy, and  because  I  do  not  much  care;  yet  my  dress  has  been 
improved  within  six  months.  In  winter  I  rarely  wear  white 
shirts,  but  prefer  the  dark  flannel  shirts;  that  gives  a  shabby 
look,  and  then  my  hats  are  always  bad.  I  '11  see  to  it." 

Nor  did  the  father  altogether  approve  of  some  expressions  in 
his  son's  letters.  "Let  me  call  attention  to  the  bad  taste  and 
vulgarity  displayed  in  using  oaths  and  profane  expressions  or 
any  slang  terms  in  one's  letters.    Do  watch  this  tendency  in 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        129 

your  familiar  correspondence."  And  the  merchant's  sense  of 
personal  dignity  was  also  ruffled  by  what  will  seem  to  many 
readers  to-day  one  of  the  most  charming  and  lovable  aspects  of 
the  son's  letters.  "My  dear  Henry,  you  know  I  attach  little 
importance  to  forms,  to  set  rules  of  society,  which  are  for  the 
most  part  unmeaning,  but  as  a  matter  of  correct  taste  on  your 
part,  would  it  not  be  in  better  keeping  to  omit  the  terms  'old 
fellow,'  'old  boy,'  etc.,  when  addressing  me?  I  think  so." 

Henry  did  not  reply  to  this  criticism,  but  he  could  no  more 
help  using  terms  of  endearment  than  he  could  help  saying 
"damn"  when  that  was  what  he  meant.  His  characterization 
of  his  father's  letters  is  full  of  generosity  and  sweetness:  "You 
are  a  capital  correspondent  in  quantity  and  quality;  do  not 
mind  reproving  me  now  and  then  (a  rarity  new  to  me  so  far 
from  home),  answer  my  questions,  give  me  news  and  advice, 
and  best  of  all  a  smile  and  a  kiss  at  the  end." 

Once  in  a  while  they  exchange  a  word  about  new  books,  the 
last  "Atlantic,"  Emerson's  speech  at  the  Burns  centenary,  or 
Dwight's  "Journal  of  Music,"  which  Henry  did  not  care  for, 
although  he  occasionally  contributed  to  it.  "Have  you  seen  a 
book  by  an  Englishman,  George  Eliot,"  Henry  writes  in  June, 
1859,  "called  'Scenes  from  Clerical  Life,'  and  one  by  the  same 
author  just  published  and  highly  praised  by  the  'Times'? 
Eliot  is  a  mere  nom  de  guerre."  And  in  October:  "  'Adam  Bede' 
is  capital;  Mrs.  Poyser  is  a  character,  a  person,  which  is  more 
than  most  authors  can  give  birth  to.  The  writer's  real  name 
has  not  appeared  yet.  .  .  .  Read  Thackeray's  new  book 
[" The  Virginians"]  —  you'd  like  it,  father." 

Two  business  schemes  of  Henry's  occupy  much  space  in  the 
correspondence  of  this  year.  One  was  a  project  for  shipping 
light  Hungarian  wines  from  Vienna,  on  commission;  but 
George  Higginson,  after  careful  inquiries  in  Boston  and  New 
York,  found  that  there  was  no  market.  The  other  was  a  prof- 
fered clerkship  in  Herr  Miller's  wholesale  drug  business,  which 
Henry  debated  very  seriously,  but  which  was  suddenly  with- 
10 


130  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

drawn.  Yet  the  chief  topic  of  correspondence  between  father 
and  son  was  the  question  of  coming  home.  The  father  hun- 
gered for  his  boy,  yet  he  had  too  much  New  England  reticence 
to  say  so,  and  contented  himself  with  elaborate  and  ingenious 
moral  arguments  which  would  have  done  credit  to  one  of  his 
seventeenth-century  ancestors.  He  fears  Henry  is  wasting 
precious  time:  "You  should  return  to  this  country  in  the 
autumn,  decide  on  a  pursuit,  and  take  it  up  in  earnest."  Yet 
in  this  very  letter  he  admits  there  is  nothing  encouraging  in 
the  state  of  trade,  and  that  the  shipping  business  is  suffering 
severely.  "You  must  return  in  the  autumn.  When  here  you 
may  perhaps  have  the  benefit  of  Mr.  E.  Austin's  sagacious  and 
wise  management."  But  the  sagacious  Mr.  Austin,  though  he 
talked  kindly  about  a  possible  opening  in  his  counting-room, 
made  no  very  definite  offer.  "Can't  you  come  home  and  get 
musical  instruction  here?"  To  this  Henry  makes  no  reply, 
and  his  father  waxes  bolder.  "Come  home.  You  cannot  look 
for  eminence  in  music.  To  stay,  would  strengthen  selfish  pro- 
pensities." Voluntary  exile,  it  appeared,  was  developing  a 
streak  of  "soft  conceit"  and  "vanity"  in  Henry;  to  which 
the  youth  answered  rather  bitterly,  for  once,  "God  knows  I  've 
nothing  to  be  vain  of."  Then  there  was  the  "foot,  arm  and 
shoulder"  argument:  was  not  Dr.  Bigelow  of  Boston  a  better 
doctor  than  anybody  in  Vienna?  Are  not  Abana  and  Pharpar, 
in  short,  better  than  all  the  waters  of  Israel? 

Very  skillful,  too,  was  the  appeal  to  Henry's  responsibilities 
as  a  brother:  "George  and  Mary  and  Frank  need  you  here." 
But  on  this  point  Henry  seems  to  score :  — 

I  do  not  well  see  in  what  I  can  help  my  brothers  and  sister. 
Each  time  that  I  see  Jim,  I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that 
he  is  more  of  a  man  than  I ,  and  more  able  to  give  me  and  oth- 
ers advice  than  I  him.  George  is  doing  excellently  [he  was 
farming  in  Hadley],  will,  I  believe,  continue  to  do  so,  and  is  at 
any  rate  not  at  home  within  my  reach.    Mary  seems  to  be 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        131 

growing  as  straight  as  an  arrow,  to  be  as  natural,  loving,  truly 
good  and  useful,  darling  a  daughter  and  sister  as  anyone  need 
be.  She  needs  little  help  from  me.  And  as  for  Frank,  he  has 
lately  been  industrious  and  painstaking.  His  last  letters  be- 
tray an  excellent  spirit  about  his  studies;  he  is  pure-minded, 
high-minded,  honest,  good-hearted,  and  as  little  likely  to  get 
into  trouble  as  any  boy  of  his  age. 

So  the  good  father  falls  back  again  on  his  pet  "selfish  pro- 
pensities" argument.  "How  ugly  this  is!  Look  at  that  noble 
fellow,  Charley  Lowell!  Does  not  this  blight  affect  his  char- 
acter?" As  Henry  does  not  reply  to  this  criticism  upon  his  best 
friend,  George  Higginson  invents  another  variation:  "Will 
your  knowledge  and  devotion  to  music  enable  you  to  look  upon 
it  as  a  profession,  or  to  render  rich  services  of  good  to  society?" 
(The  founding  of  the  Symphony  Orchestra  was  the  answer  to 
that  last  clause,  though  it  came  twenty- two  years  later!) 
Finally,  the  perplexed  parent  fell  back  on  the  economic  argu- 
ment: "Come  back  and  begin  to  earn!"  And  here  again  the 
son's  quiet,  patient  answer  is  conclusive:  — 

What  can  you  offer  at  home?  Nothing  tempting.  You 
speak  of  business  in  no  tones  of  encouragement ;  you  allude  to 
the  depressed  state  of  our  shipping  (sure  however  to  be  re- 
duced if  England  be  drawn  into  this  war) ;  you  mention  the 
numbers  of  able  and  excellent  young  men  without  employ- 
ment. Only  look  at  your  own  picture  and  you  see  the  dis- 
heartening tendency  of  it.  Think  of  all  these  aforesaid  young 
men  with  more  natural  ability,  with  more  and  better  prepara- 
tion for  their  work,  with  excellent  characters  for  workers;  all 
more  than  I,  and  yet  they  are  idle.  What  is  the  inference? 
That  I  should  have  nothing  to  do  for  a  long  time.  ...  I  give 
my  word  of  honor  that  when  I  cease  working  I'll  return  to 
America  and  work.  But  I  cannot  return  next  fall,  nor  can  I  fix 
any  time  for  that  same. 


132  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

The  fact  is,  —  though  neither  father  nor  son  realized  it  at 
the  time,  —  that  vast  changes  were  imminent  in  New  England. 
The  old  commercial  Boston  was  passing  away;  the  new  manu- 
facturing and  industrial  life  of  Massachusetts  was  barely 
beginning.  Young  men  in  the  late  eighteen-fifties  stood  "be- 
tween two  worlds,"  and  felt  powerless  to  direct  their  destiny. 
And  there  were  purely  personal  reasons,  well  understood  by 
his  father,  which  made  young  Higginson  reluctant  to  return  to 
Boston.  He  wrote  often  about  going  West,  as  Charles  Lowell 
had  just  done.  "  If  I  were  to  go  home  this  fall,  I  should  ask  him 
to  take  me  as  his  clerk.  There  is  a  great  chance  on  the  rail- 
roads."  But  Lowell's  report  proved  unfavorable. 

He  does  not  like  the  West  and  never  will.  "The  West  may 
make  a  man  strong,  rock-like  —  never  large  and  generous  and 
manly."  You  have  the  gist  of  the  matter  in  those  few  words, 
and  I  fancy  he  is  quite  right.  A  land  which  is  simply  devoted 
to  money-making  cannot  produce  broad  and  noble  characters. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Alpheus  Hardy,  who  has  just  been  here  with  his 
wife,  said  lately  to  me:  "  I  know  no  city  in  the  world  where  the 
merchants  are  so  active  and  energetic  without  losing  their  in- 
terest in  life  generally  and  sinking  into  mere  merchants,  as  in 
Boston."   He  is  an  interesting  man. 

When  George  Higginson  realized  that  a  fourth  winter  in 
Vienna  was  inevitable,  he  ceased  pleading,  contenting  himself 
with  the  remark  that  Henry's  decision  was  a  "misjudgment,  a 
serious  error."  He  is  delighted  that  the  clerkship  with  the 
Millers  came  to  nothing.  German  merchants  are  "stately  and 
precise  old  formalists,  of  ancient  views  and  habits."  When 
Henry's  Jewish  friends,  the  Epsteins,  were  in  bereavement  and 
financial  difficulties,  George  Higginson  wrote:  "Give  of  money 
if  there  be  need.  One  of  the  obligations  assumed  with  the  gifts 
which  your  Heavenly  Father  confers  is  to  avail  of  such  open- 
ings and  dispense  judicially."  The  father's  letters  about  family 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        133 

affairs  are  radiantly  cheerful.  He  goes  out  to  Cambridge  in 
September  to  see  Frank  —  entering  Harvard  from  Mr.  San- 
born's school  in  Concord  —  maintain  the  family  tradition  in 
the  great  Sophomore-Freshman  game :  — 

"Frank  was  foremost  in  the  fray.  Black  eyes,  bruised  head, 
lame  through  a  heavy  blow  on  the  chest  —  are  regarded  as 
honorable  proofs  of  his  share  in  the  deeds  of  the  day.  .  .  . 
Some  of  the  blows  appear  to  have  been  stunning  ones,  for  after 
the  first  games  he  was  for  a  time  wandering  about  the  ground 
unconsciously.  His  pluck  and  spirit  appear  to  have  sustained 
him  most  creditably,  but  the  sport  is  brutal  and  alarming,  and 
will,  I  trust,  be  moderated  somewhat  under  later  years. " 

Possibly  that  final  wish  was  even  then  echoed  by  a  certain 
Harvard  instructor,  of  whom  Frank  writes  to  Henry:  "  Charley 
E.  is  our  mathematical  tutor,  and  is  a  very  fair,  gentlemanly, 
and  pleasant  one  too.  Though  cold  as  an  icicle,1  he  is  liked  by 
the  class  better  than  any  other  one." 

So  the  year  runs  by  in  Boston,  the  year  of  Prescott's  death, 
and  Washington  Irving's,  and  of  Theodore  Parker's  break- 
down, and  of  President  Walker's  resignation,  and  of  the 
founding  of  Agassiz's  Museum  of  Comparative  Zoology  in 
Cambridge,  and  of  John  Brown's  raid  on  Harper's  Ferry. 
"Noble old  John  Brown,"  George  Higginson  wrote  —  "heroic, 
unflinching."  And  his  boy's  own  future  was  to  be  shaped  by 
that  tragedy  in  Virginia. 

I  would  hardly  believe  [replies  Henry]  that  Brown  of  Kansas 
would  have  tried  such  a  thing.  It  is  a  pretty  mad  plan,  but  the 
slaveholders  deserve.it.  Hang  them!  they've  no  right  to  keep 
such  a  firebrand  alive  in  the  midst  of  our  country.  The 
Southerners  are  infernally  pig-headed.  .  .  .  For  the  fine  old 
man  we  can  have  but  one  sentiment ;  he  was  a  real  hero  and  has 
immortalized  his  name.  The  Southerners  may  curse  and  swear 
as  they  like ;  he  is  worth  all  of  them  put  together,  and  his  work 
will  be  accomplished  in  time. 
1  One  of  the  earliest  appearances  of  the  "icicle"  myth  about  President  Eliot. 


134  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

The  New  Year  began  happily  for  Henry  with  the  usual  hol- 
iday visit  to  "Jimmy  and  Johnny"  and  five  or  six  other  Bos- 
ton boys  in  Dresden  and  Berlin.  But  he  had  not  reached 
Vienna  again  before  his  father  opened  the  i860  campaign  of 
arguments  for  returning  home.  "Your  place  is  here  —  in 
readiness  for  work."  He  admits  that,  although  Lee,  Higginson 
and  Co.  have  not  a  dollar  of  indebtedness,  factory  shares  are 
low,  and  the  Western  railroads  in  trouble.  Yet  his  boy  must 
come  back.  It  is  "indolent"  to  remain.  "  Choose  your  calling 
and  pursue  it  with  zeal  and  perseverance."  The  "selfishness" 
argument  reappears,  and  there  are  new  turns  in  the  economic 
argument.  Henry's  income  for  1859,  it  appeared,  was  only 
$450,  and  his  expenses  apparently  $1800.  "Of  the  money  left 
you  in  1856,  by  Uncle  G.,  but  $2500  is  now  available.  How 
long  that  will  answer  for  $1500  to  $1800  per  annum,  you  can 
answer.  You  have  played  too  long  in  Vienna.  I  therefore  pray 
you  to  retrieve  the  error  without  delay  and  choose  some  occu- 
pation that  will  enable  you  to  pay  your  way."  He  thinks 
Henry  has  been  "careless  in  sending  accounts,  unmercantile," 
and  delivers  a  lecture  on  "the  indispensable  necessity  of 
method,  order  and  promptitude."  Then,  humorously  enough, 
Baring's  accounts  come  to  hand,  and  tally  precisely  with 
Henry's  figures.  His  expenses  had  been  but  $1200,  and  his 
credit  with  Baring's  was  excellent.  So  the  father  takes  back 
his  lecture:    "I  hasten  to  acquit  you  of  negligence." 

But  then  follows  the  only  passage  in  which  George  Hig- 
ginson ever  seems  to  be  suspicious  that  his  son  is  not  wholly 
frank  with  him:  — 

"  I  am  in  the  dark  as  to  the  precise  character  of  your  studies. 
What  ties  have  you  at  Vienna?  Have  you  not  led  a  sober, 
discreet  and  blameless  life  there?  You  have  an  enlightened 
conscience,  a  just  sense  of  true  manliness,  of  the  place  you 
ought  to  fill  in  our  community.  Why  then  hesitate?  Come 
back,  place  yourself  in  the  best  position,  and  render  all  the 
good  you  can  to  those  about  you  as  a  good  Christian  and 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        135 

citizen.  ...  I  have  long  intended  to  ask  you  where  you  pass 
your  Sundays.  Where  do  you  go  to  church?  Answer  my 
queries  about  your  habits,  and  think  seriously  of  duties  on 
this  side." 

Henry's  reply  to  this  letter,  on  March  I,  is  quiet,  affection- 
ate —  and  imperturbable. 

I  Ve  long  intended  to  go  at  about  this  time,  but  have  avoided 
saying  anything  about  it,  because  my  plans  might  have  been 
altered  by  circumstances  and  thus  you  disappointed.  I  shall 
go  to  Dusseldorf  to  Johnny,  stay  with  him  until  the  weather 
is  warm,  and  then  make  a  foot  journey  in  France.  .  .  .  Up  to 
the  present  time,  almost,  I  have  hoped  to  be  able  to  play,  but 
it  cannot  be;  and  therefore  I,  seeing  that  my  musical  studies 
cannot  be  prosecuted  to  advantage  without  playing,  have  de- 
termined to  leave  here.  If  you  consider  the  whole  thing,  and 
remember  that  I  enjoy  in  the  depths  of  my  soul  music  as 
nothing  else,  you'll  easily  comprehend  my  stay.  .  .  .  You 
ask  about  churchgoing;  there  is  no  place  for  me  to  go,  as  the 
English  service  is  very  unpleasant  to  me.  I  do  go  to  the 
Catholic  churches  somewhat.  But  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I 
should  hardly  go  if  there  were  twenty  churches,  for  I  do  not 
like  it.  ...  I  've  collected  quite  a  quantity  of  books  (second- 
hand) which  will  be  valuable  to  others  and  to  me,  and  which 
are  to  be  got  very  cheap.  You  once  desired  me  to  bring  home 
something  for  each  cousin  (of  the  200  or  300?)  and  also  some 
books  for  the  college.  .  .  .  He  who  is  fond  of  books  and  has 
been  for  an  hour  in  an  old  bookshop  will  understand  how  I 
have  got  so  many  together. 

He  was  in  no  hurry  to  start,  lingering  a  few  weeks  to  enjoy 
a  visit  from  brother  Jim,  and  "an  unusual  number  of  con- 
certs, among  them  the  first  one  of  my  chum  Epstein  in  many 
years,  given  by  him  on  his  own  account."  But  his  thoughts 
were  turning  homeward  at  last.   He  writes  in  April :  "  At  home 


136  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

you  are  all  expecting  the  different  nominations  for  the  Presi- 
dency; it  will  be  a  strange  election  and  much  depends  on  it. 
But  after  all  one  will  hardly  get  Mr.  Seward  in,  if  he  be  put 
up;  he  is  more  likely  to  be  in  the  Cabinet  than  in  the  White 
House."  Mr.  Seward,  by  the  way,  had  been  in  Vienna  in 
October,  1859,  and  Henry  found  him  "a  very  interesting  man, 
pleasant,  kindly,  funny,  simple,  straightforward;  ought  to  be 
the  next  President." 

"I  don't  believe  that  you  have  any  idea  how  much  father 
wants  you  to  come  back,"  writes  Frank.  "He  says  almost 
daily,  '  I  do  wish  that  Henry  would  come  home.'  "  And  Frank 
himself  is  anxious  to  have  his  big  brother  back  before  Septem- 
ber, to  coach  his  class  football  team:  "to  help  us  in  the  foot- 
ball as  you  did  Jim.    We  shall  have  to  fight  like  the  d ." 

Frank's  "training  weight,"  it  appears  from  this  letter,  is  120 
pounds.  Only  a  little  while  now,  and  all  three  brothers  will  be 
fighting  on  far  other  fields  than  the  Harvard  Delta! 

By  the  middle  of  May  Henry  was  in  Diisseldorf  with  Du 
Maurier  and  John  Bancroft,  who  had  come  into  an  inheri- 
tance "  and  can  paint  on  in  peace.  .  .  .  Have  you  anything  in 
prospect  for  me,  daddy  dear?  Calcutta  is  too  slow  and  too 
dull  for  me.  ...  If  the  wines  go  [this  was  a  second  scheme  for 
importing  wine  from  Hungary]  one  might  easily  unite  the  two 
—  in  fact,  the  whole  would  not  be  work  enough  for  anyone 
really  desirous  to  be  busied.  ..." 

By  July  Henry  is  in  Paris,  and  following  keenly  the  political 
developments  at  home: — 

If  the  Republicans  be  once  in,  they'll  hold  office  long  enough 
to  kill  this  question  of  slavery.  I  read  portions  of  Mr.  Sumner's 
speech,1  i.e.,  the  statistical  parts,  which  are  dreadful  in  their 
native  inborn  strength,  but  the  whole  comes  too  late,  I  fancy. 
The  evil  has  gone  too  far  to  be  thus  discussed.  Mr.  Adams's 
speech  pleased  me  very  well  indeed ;  it  is  strong  and  temperate 
in  its  tone. 

1  On  the  "Barbarism  of  Slavery." 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        137 

But  he  was  also  giving  himself  a  full  draught  —  for  the  last 
time  for  many  a  year  —  of  his  favorite  pleasure.  He  writes 
to  his  Aunt  Harriet  (Mrs.  S.  T.  Morse) :  — 

I  am  again  in  this  most  beautiful  of  cities,  going  continually 
to  theatres,  and  operas  (comique) ,  which  are  indeed  the  strong- 
est attraction  of  Paris  for  me.  Such  acting  as  one  sees  in  low 
and  high  comedy  is  hardly  to  be  found  elsewhere ;  a  half-dozen 
people  perhaps  in  Vienna  and  a  few  in  Germany  play  in  the 
same  finished  way.  Yet  the  astonishing  thing  about  the  acting 
is,  that  it  is  not  acting;  it  is  just  Parisian  life  on  a  stage  for 
us  to  look  at.  .  .  .  Music  is  not  to  be  heard  to  advantage 
here;  the  opera-comique  is  very  nice  indeed,  and  the  Lyrique 
too,  but  the  grand  opera  is  very  second-rate  in  music  and  in 
singers;  the  orchestra  and  the  decorations,  as  also  ballet,  are 
excellent.  At  the  Italian  opera  a  company  of  old  and  second- 
rate  people  are  advertised ;  the  best  go  to  St.  Petersburg  for  the 
winter;  Grisi  still  sings,  but  should  be  buried;  four  years  ago 
she  was  dreadful  from  weakness,  and  now  — !  Mario  is  done 
too,  they  say,  tho'  he  will  sing  still.  At  Vienna  both  the  Ger- 
man and  the  Italian  companies  were  far  better  than  here.  In- 
deed M'lle  La  Grua,  whom  I  heard  there  in  April  in  the 
Italian  opera,  is  for  me  the  greatest  singer  that  I  ever  heard; 
greatest  as  artist,  for  her  voice  is  small,  just  as  those  of  Jenny 
Lind,  of  Sontag,  of  Malibran  and  of  most  very  great  singers 
have  been.  (You'll  hear  a  great  voice  in  the  Czillag  from 
Vienna,  mezzo-soprano,  just  engaged  by  Ullman  for  America.) 
In  addition  the  La  Grua  acts  wonderfully;  her  Norma 
stands  above  that  of  Grisi,  I  think,  impossible  as  it  may  seem. 
I  wrote  to  "  Dwight"  an  account  of  her,  which  you  may  have 
seen.  One  great  objection  to  the  Paris  theatres  for  me,  is  that 
the  representations  last  4  to  5  hours,  whereas  two  and  a  half 
are  quite  enough.  It  is  debilitating  and  injurious  to  stay  so 
long  in  a  theatre. 


138  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Powell  writes  me  [he  says  in  writing  his  father  from  Paris] 
that  he  sees  nothing  which  a  safe  and  honest  man  can  begin 
with  just  now;  he  means  of  course  a  young  man  opening  his 
course  in  life;  but  I  must  find  something  or  I  shall  go  into  the 
Insane  Asylum.  I'd  not  live  at  home  without  employment 
for  any  possible  reward.  ...  I  've  always  counted  on  doing 
something,  with  you,  an  old  hand  who  has  burned  his  fingers, 
to  give  me  advice  in  my  movements.  .  .  .  Suggest  something 
if  you  can. 

But  George  Higginson  makes  no  discoverable  reference  to  a 
business  opening,  though  he  composes  long  and  eloquent  let- 
ters about  "your  dear,  loving,  ever-faithful  and  devoted  old 
Grandmother  [Lee],"  who  had  died  in  June.  Henry  had  been 
particularly  fond  of  her. 

There  never  was  such  a  grandmother  [he  writes  his  Aunt 
Harriet  (Mrs.  Lee's  daughter)],  and  there  will  not  be  soon 
again.  I  remember  long  ago  Dr.  Dexter,  not  an  impressionable 
or  sentimental  man,  said  to  me,  "Among  the  few  people  whom 
I  should  take  real,  honest  pleasure  in  seeing  again  at  home, 
are  your  grandfather  and  grandmother  Lee";  and  he  went  on 
to  eulogize  them.  You'll  not  think  that  I'm  writing  fine 
phrases  or  flattering  you  when  I  say  that  your  children  are 
greatly,  truly  blessed  in  their  parents,  all  devoted  to  them; 
but  they've  lost  this  sunshiny,  thoughtful,  sympathizing 
grandmother,  who  has  done  so  much  for  us.  I  used  sometimes 
to  wonder  that  grandmother  could  even  understand  many  of 
our  whims  and  notions,  not  existing  in  her  day  and  often  too 
absurd  to  be  tolerated  at  all.  Yet  she  comprehended  them, 
sympathized  with  them,  and  then  merely  said,  "One  of  these 
days  you  '11  change  your  mind  and  not  think  so  " ;  and  we  went 
away  thinking  dear  grandmother  a  little  absurd,  at  least  old- 
fashioned,  and  waked  up  one  day  to  find  her  wisdom  staring 
us  in  the  face;  whence  we  may  perhaps  draw  the  moral  to 


FOUR  YEARS  OF  EUROPE        139 

"Make  sure  of  children's  hearts  and  let  them  work  out  their 
own  notions  in  peace;  the  truth  is  sure  to  come  out  finally; 
and  one  cannot  hasten  it  by  command  or  opposition." 

A  typical  "  Massachusetts  in  i860"  view  of  Lincoln  is  found 
in  George  Higginson's  letter  of  July  15. 

"  You  ask  about  the  Presidential  candidates:  the  Republican 
party  will,  from  present  sight,  carry  the  day.  Mr.  Lincoln  is 
of  Springfield,  Illinois  —  of  Kentucky  birth,  but  long  a  con- 
sistent and  earnest  Free-soiler.  Not  an  abolitionist.  He  is  a 
very  respectable  man,  hardly  known  out  of  his  state,  but  held 
in  high  esteem  there.  Hamlin  is  of  Maine,  a  former  Governor 
—  late  Senator  at  Washington,  a  sound  and  very  good  man. 
It  was  a  matter  of  expediency  with  the  party,  in  which  Mr. 
Seward,  notwithstanding  the  unquestionable  disappointment, 
fully  and  frankly  concurred." 

Henry  had  been  in  Concarneau  in  Brittany  with  John  Ban- 
croft, then  at  St.  Helier  on  the  island  of  Jersey,  and  now,  after 
the  brief  stay  in  Paris,  he  tarried  in  London,  waiting  for  pas- 
sage on  the  Arabia,  the  boat  which  had  brought  him  to  Europe 
with  such  high  hopes  just  four  years  before.  She  sailed  from 
Liverpool  for  Boston  on  November  17,  i860.  Lincoln  had  been 
elected  eleven  days  earlier,  although  Higginson  did  not  get  the 
news  until  he  reached  Halifax.   A  new  epoch  was  at  hand. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  CIVIL  WAR:   FIRST   PHASE 

"I  said:  'I  'm  going.'"— H.  L.  H. 

Yet  from  November,  i860,  to  the  firing  upon  Fort  Sumter 
on  April  12,  1861,  the  months  dragged.  The  public  uncertainty 
as  to  the  policy  of  the  incoming  administration  was  reflected 
in  the  business  situation,  and  nowhere  more  noticeably  than 
in  Boston.  Everybody  was  marking  time.  No  one  ventured 
forward.  And  Henry  Higginson,  aged  26,  was  as  far  from  find- 
ing employment  as  ever.  Charles  Lowell,  who  had  given  up  a 
railroad  position  in  Burlington,  Iowa,  and  was  turning  iron- 
master at  Mt.  Savage,  Maryland,  had  tried  to  comfort  hirn 
by  writing:  "Don't  bother  with  plans,  but  be  governed  by 
circumstances.  Damn  it,  a  man  who  has  got  himself  up  as 
well  as  you  have  ought  to  be  happy  anywhere."  On  Decem- 
ber 28,  Lowell  wrote  from  Mt.  Savage:  — 

"  If  you  have  any  respectable  mode  of  getting  through  your 
days,  and  do  not  feel  yourself  in  danger  of  becoming  a  demned 
disreputable,  dissatisfied  loafer,  I  should  advise  you  to  be  in 
no  hurry  to  plunge  into  trade.  Cotton  is  unthroned,  but  Corn 
is  not  yet  King,  and  meanwhile  Chance  rules.  The  South  is 
just  now  a  mere  mob,  and  no  man  can  tell  whither  a  mob  may 
rush." 

Early  in  February,  1861,  Henry  himself  wrote  to  his  brother 
James,  who  was  still  in  Germany:  "  Do  not  hurry  about  com- 
ing home:  our  country  is  in  an  unfortunate  state,  and  offers 
little  employment  or  enjoyment  until  something  decided  and 
strong  comes."  He  goes  on  to  describe  his  good  fortune  in 
selling  profitably  an  invoice  of  wines  which  he  had  imported  as 
a  venture :  — 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  141 

In  consequence  therefore  of  this  success,  I  've  sent  for  more 
wines  and  shall  try  to  make  a  living  out  of  it;  in  these  times 
one  must  earn  a  living  as  one  can.  .  .  .  What  a  howling  about 
the  cotton  there  is !  Do  you  know  that  the  whole  cotton  crop 
is  5  per  cent  in  value  of  our  annual  products?  It  is  a  fact 
worthy  of  note,  Jim,  that  the  N.  Western  Senators  and  Rep. 
are  the  men  who  are  most  decided  and  clear  in  pronouncing 
their  sentiments  against  the  South;  they  have  talked  of  coer- 
cion and  war,  and  they'll  be  very  lively,  when  the  fighting 
comes,  i.e.,  if  it  comes.  .  .  . 

Meantime  trade  is  in  a  rather  stagnant  state,  from  the  un- 
certainty in  the  future  rather  than  from  any  inherent  diffi- 
culty. For  one  like  myself  seeking  occupation,  nothing  is 
easily  to  be  found.  N.  York  is  probably  the  best  chance,  and 
even  she  does  not  appear  very  tempting  at  the  present  time. 
Besides,  I  am  loath  to  quit  our  Puritan  city  after  all,  un- 
willing to  give  up  my  numerous  valued  acquaintances  and 
my  friends.  Society  is  in  some  respects  much  pleasanter  to 
me  than  formerly,  and  the  easy,  familiar  converse  with  girls 
affords  me  much  delight;  here  I  am  known  at  least  in  my  own 
circle,  and  am  trusted  as  a  son  of  my  father  and  a  brother  of 
James  J.;  in  N.Y.  I  must  begin  all  over  again,  must  seek  far 
and  wide  and  work  hard  at  society  before  gaining  the  advan- 
tages here  in  my  hand.  Perhaps  it  may  be  my  course  after 
all,  but  I  've  seen  enough  of  figuring  among  strangers  not  to 
cling  to  friends  with  all  my  strength. 

But  this  disappointed  musician,  living  now  in  his  father's 
house  in  Chauncy  Street,  and  often  confined  there,  in  fact,  by 
a  renewal  of  the  old  trouble  with  his  foot,  was  not  fated  to  be- 
come a  wine-merchant  in  "our  Puritan  city,"  or  to  "begin  all 
over  again"  in  New  York. 

The  first  shot  at  Fort  Sumter  changed  all  that.  The  news 
reached  Boston  on  April  13.  On  the  22d,  Henry  writes  to  his 
brother:  — 


142  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Dearest  Jim,  — 

We  are  in  for  the  fight  at  last  and  we  will  carry  it  thro'  like 
men.  One  week  ago  to-day  appeared  the  President's  proclama- 
tion calling  on  the  states  for  troops.  To-day  Washington  is 
cared  for,  Fort  Monroe  garrisoned,  and  the  route  to  Washing- 
ton held  open.  Never  in  my  whole  life  have  I  seen  anything  ap- 
proaching in  the  slightest  degree  to  the  excitement  and  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  past  week.  Everything  excepting  the  war 
is  forgotten,  business  is  suspended,  the  streets  are  rilled  with 
people,  drilling  is  seen  on  all  sides  and  at  all  times.  Our  Massa- 
chusetts troops  were  poured  into  Boston  within  12  to  24  hours 
after  the  command  was  issued  from  here,  and  were  the  first  to 
go  on  and  the  first  to  shed  blood.  May  the  devil  catch  those 
Baltimorean  rioters,  the  cowards!  On  the  19th  April,  the  an- 
niversary of  the  Lexington  fight,  our  first  men  were  shot  in 
Baltimore. 

But  you  should  have  seen  the  troops,  Jimmy:  real,  clean- 
cut,  intelligent  Yankees,  the  same  men  who  fought  in  '76,  a 
thousand  times  better  than  any  soldiers  living.  They  left 
their  wives  and  children  in  some  cases  without  a  farewell,  and 
marched  thro'  to  Washington.  We  've  been  told  of  our  degen- 
eracy for  years  and  years:  I  tell  you,  Jim,  no  more  heartfelt 
enthusiasm  or  devotion  was  to  be  found  in  '76  than  now. 
Everyone  is  longing  to  go.  One  man  walked  100  miles  to  join 
a  volunteer  company  raised  and  gone  between  Wednesday  and 
Sunday.  Two  thousand  Irish  volunteers  have  been  raised  in 
Boston,  besides  many  companies  of  Americans  and  Germans 
and  French.  One  hundred  Germans  put  their  names  down  as 
volunteers  in  a  half-hour  at  a  small  meeting  which  was  held 
Friday.  Money  is  forthcoming,  everyone  is  making  clothes  for 
the  troops.  Yesterday  sailed  from  N.Y.  5000  troops  (1200 
from  here,  commanded  by  one  of  my  classmates) ;  they  say 
500,000  people  were  present  to  see  them  march  down  Broad- 
way and  sail.  That  famous  N.Y.  7th  regiment  is  holding  the 
R.R.  to  Washington  from  Annapolis.  A  regiment  of  800  N.Y. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  143 

firemen  has  been  raised  in  two  or  three  days,  and  will  go  as 
skirmishers  to-morrow  or  to-day.  The  Ohio  troops  are  in  Wash- 
ington, and  the  Westerners  are  coming  on  perfectly  wild. 
Every  slave-state  has  refused  troops;  we  do  not  want  them. 
The  Southern  army  is,  they  say,  well-drilled:  we  may  lose  at 
first,  but  they  will  be  wiped  out  from  the  face  of  the  earth  in 
the  end.  We  want  arms  sadly ;  those  villains  have  stolen  every- 
thing that  they  could  find  in  our  armories  and  arsenals.  And 
for  us  —  George  will,  I  hope  and  trust,  finish  his  house  at 
Lenox  before  moving  .  .  .  father  is  of  course  too  old.  I  have 
been  laid  up  all  winter  with  a  sprained  foot,  which  is  still  weak, 
but  I  '11  go  if  I  can  march  possibly.  I  Ve  committed  myself  to 
a  regiment  of  volunteers  to  be  raised  and  drilled  in  our  harbor 
before  going.  It  is  the  best  way,  if  they  are  not  wanted  im- 
mediately, for  then  a  disciplined  body  of  active  troops  will  be 
opposed  to  the  enemy,  instead  of  raw  recruits.  Jim  Savage  will 
go  in  this  regiment  as  an  officer.  This  foot  has  been  a  great 
nuisance  to  me  for  months,  and  now  may  prevent  my  going, 
for  a  lame  man  will  not  be  accepted.  And  now,  Jim,  you  must 
decide  for  yourself  whether  you'll  return  just  yet  or  not;  you 
might  wait  a  few  months  to  advantage.  There  will  be  little 
business  in  any  way  for  beginners  until  the  war  is  over,  I  sup- 
pose :  the  first  quota  is  gone  and  the  second  will  be  off  also  be- 
fore you  can  reach  here.  Then  will  come  much  drilling  and 
preparation  for  the  future:  the  war  will,  I  fancy,  be  very 
severe,  but  of  short  duration.  You  might  get  all  possible  in- 
formation as  to  the  muskets  and  rifles  with  sword-bayonets  to 
be  got  in  each  country,  Germany,  France  and  England;  we 
must  import  from  Europe  to  meet  our  immediate  wants. 
Send  this  letter  to  Johnny  with  my  love:  I  've  not  time  to  write 
him  to-day  and  he'll  want  to  know  of  these  things.  Father  is 
very  well  indeed  and  drills  hard,  with  a  view  to  teaching  others 
—  as  also  Frank.  Father  gets  dreadfully  excited ;  indeed  so 
does  everyone.   My  best  love  to  you,  Jimmy.       Yrs. 

H. 


144  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

The  President's  call  for  troops  had  found  Massachusetts 
ready.  In  January,  1861,  Governor  Andrew  had  begun  to 
prepare  the  state  militia  for  service;  in  February  he  had  se- 
cured authority  from  the  Legislature  to  utilize  these  militia 
outside  the  limits  of  the  state  on  requisition  of  the  President. 
Lincoln's  summons  reached  Boston  on  Monday,  April  15;  and 
on  the  morning  of  the  16th  the  militia  regiments  had  reported 
in  Boston  for  duty.  On  the  17th  and  18th  four  of  these  regi- 
ments started  South.    It  was  quick  work. 

Major  George  H.  Gordon,  a  graduate  of  West  Point  who  had 
served  in  the  Mexican  War,  but  had  since  resigned  from  the 
army  and  entered  upon  the  practice  of  law  in  Boston,  had 
rendered  great  service  to  Governor  Andrew  in  the  organiza- 
tion of  these  State  troops.  But  he  saw  clearly  that  the  militia 
system  was  inadequate  to  the  strain  now  laid  upon  it. 

He  wrote  in  his  reminiscences  of  the  Second  Massachusetts 
Regiment:  1"  My  course  was  plain.  It  was  to  raise  a  regiment 
modeled  upon  the  regular  army  of  the  United  States  —  an 
enlistment  of  men;  an  appointment  of  officers;  and  an  indefi- 
nite term  of  service.  By  what  law  such  a  regiment  was  to  be 
held  together,  fed,  paid,  clothed,  I  knew  not:  there  was  no 
law,  but  there  was  something  above  law,  something  that  makes 
law  —  necessity.  So  I  addressed  myself  to  two  essentials  in 
getting  together  and  organizing  in  form  a  regiment  of  men ;  and 
these  were,  first,  the  assent  and  cordial  cooperation  of  Gover- 
nor Andrew  to  raise  it;  second,  the  promise  of  the  General 
Government  to  accept  it." 

Governor  Andrew  had  already  assented  on  that  fateful 
Monday,  April  15,  and  by  the  30th  President  Lincoln  had 
accepted  the  proffered  regiment.  "So  far  as  I  know,"  wrote 
Gordon  in  1883,  "this  offer  of  a  regiment  of  citizens  of  Massa- 
chusetts, to  fight  for  an  indefinite  period,  —  organized,  armed 
and  equipped,  a  present  from  the  State,  —  was  the  first  offer  of 
the  kind  made  in  this  War  of  the  Rebellion." 

1  Brook  Farm  to  Cedar  Mountain,  Boston,  1883. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  145 

It  will  be  noted  that  this  action  of  the  President  antedates 
his  proclamation  of  May  3  asking  for  thirty-nine  regiments  of 
infantry  and  one  of  cavalry,  to  serve  for  three  years,  or  during 
the  war.  The  men  of  the  Second  Massachusetts,  therefore, 
always  considered  themselves  the  first  of  the  three-years  regi- 
ments to  be  accepted  and  mustered  in  by  the  United  States. 
There  was  some  irregularity  in  the  dating  of  commissions, 
which  gave  rise  to  later  controversy.  Gordon's  commission  as 
Colonel  of  the  Second  was  officially  dated  May  24,  while  the 
commission  of  the  Colonel  of  the  First  Massachusetts  was 
dated  May  21.  Yet  Henry  Higginson,  for  instance,  who,  as  we 
shall  see,  became  a  second  lieutenant  in  Company  D  of  the 
Second,  was  mustered  in  on  May  11.  But  the  fame  of  the 
Second  Massachusetts  was  to  be  won  by  four  years  of  desper- 
ate fighting.  It  does  not  turn  upon  the  precise  chronology  of 
commissions. 

Henr}'  Higginson's  own  share  in  the  raising  of  the  regiment 
was  typical  of  the  hour  and  the  man.  He  had  been  a  member 
of  the  Salignac  Drill  Club,  with  James  Savage  and  many  other 
friends  of  his  boyhood.  Savage  was  a  sergeant  in  the  Club  and 
particularly  efficient,  though  his  reticence  and  dislike  of  war- 
talk  kept  him  silent.    Long  after  the  war,  Higginson  wrote :  — 

No  one  living  can  forget  the  feeling  of  everyone  when  the 
news  of  the  capture  of  Fort  Sumter,  and  then  of  the  call  for 
Volunteers,  came.  We  all  said  little.  Those  who  were  going 
knew  their  own  minds ;  those  who  were  not  going  were  thinking 
it  over.  .  .  .  The  call  came  Monday.  ...  I  well  remember 
seeing  the  first  of  our  Volunteers  come  from  the  Providence 
R.R.  Station,  where  they  had  just  arrived.  Odd-looking, 
long,  lean  fellows,  something  to  laugh  at  and  to  envy.  It  made 
me  laugh  and  cry,  grow  hot  and  cold,  and  so  I  followed  them  to 
State  Street,  crowds  looking  at  them  as  they  passed  without 
music.  In  a  minute  a  company  of  New  Bedford  men  came  by 
with  a  band.  That  was  splendid.  How  the  crowd  cheered  as 
11 


146  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

they  marched  up  the  street,  and  up  went  the  windows  to  the 
tops  of  the  houses  where  the  printers  and  working  people  are, 
and  out  came  a  yell,  such  as  I  had  never  heard  and  only  dreamt 
of!  If  these  poor  people  felt  so,  how  should  others  with  health 
and  without  a  bond  feel?  Who  would  stay  at  home  and  be 
counted  out  of  the  fight?  I  had  sometimes  been  surprised  dur- 
ing the  winter  to  hear  Jim  Savage  say  that  he  should  not  fight 
if  the  South  did  secede.  "Let  her  go.  We  should  be  better 
without  her."  "Perhaps  his  reasoning  is  sound,"  thought  I, 
"but  you  just  cannot  stay  at  home  and  not  fight  in  such  a 
cause.  I  can't  and  you  can't."  But  I  never  said  so.  When  the 
time  came,  he  just  said,  "  I  'm  going,"  and  I  said,  "  I  'm  going." 
Of  course  we  were. 

Well,  the  excitement  and  enthusiasm  increased.  Jim  saw 
Gordon  about  himself  and  about  me,  and  was  promised  com- 
missions of  Captain  and  ist  Lieutenant  for  us.  In  a  few  days 
we  were  recruiting  in  a  side  street  near  Faneuil  Hall,  and  later 
at  Fitchburg,  where  Jim  was  known.  The  night  before  going, 
I  had  told  father  of  my  commission,  and  had  quite  astonished 
him.  We  engaged  our  room,  borrowed  a  flag,  got  out  our  post- 
ers and  spent  the  next  day  in  driving  through  the  country,  dis- 
tributing and  pinning  them  to  fences.  We  drove  to  Jim's  house 
at  Lunenburg.1   I  don't  suppose  he  was  ever  there  again.  .  .  . 

Many  of  Henry  Higginson's  dearest  friends  were  enrolling 
in  "Gordon's  regiment."  Greely  Curtis  seems  to  have  been  the 
very  first  applicant.  Wilder  Dwight  enrolled  and  began  to 
raise  subscriptions  on  April  18,  and  it  was  he  who  went  to 
Washington  on  April  25,  with  G.  L.  Andrews,  —  a  West 
Pointer,  now  an  engineer,  and  the  lieutenant  colonel  of  the 
proposed  regiment,  —  to  secure  the  President's  acceptance. 
C.  F.  Morse,  Henry  S.  Russell,  R.  G.  Shaw,  William  D.  Sedg- 
wick, Richard  Cary,  Richard  C.  Goodwin,  T.  L.  Motley,  S.  M. 

1  "Jim's"  father,  the  Hon.  James  Savage,  President  of  the  Massachusetts  His- 
torical Society,  had  a  country'  place  at  Lunenburg,  not  far  from  Fitchburg. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  147 

Quincy,  Stephen  Perkins,  were  all  going  in.  Recruiting  offices 
were  opened  in  Boston  and  elsewhere  on  April  25,  each  man 
who  had  been  promised  a  captaincy,  for  instance,  engaging  to 
raise  his  own  company.  Savage  and  Higginson  had  slow  work 
at  first  in  Fitchburg  —  that  "infernal  little  hole,"  as  Henry 
writes  to  his  father  on  May  6.  The  difficulty  was  that  the  best 
men  had  already  enrolled  in  the  State  militia  and  were  expect- 
ing to  go  in  the  Ninth  Regiment.  But  Captain  Savage  and 
Lieutenant  Higginson  —  technically  uncommissioned  as  yet 
—  were  tireless.  "Usually  James  Savage  stayed  in  the  office, 
where  men  came  in,  talked  with  him,  and  signed  the  articles  to 
go  with  us,  or  refused ;  and  I  went  from  place  to  place  collecting 
men  as  I  could  —  to  Leominster,  Shirley,  Hopedale,  and  many 
other  towns." 

On  May  14  they  marched  the  first  detachment  of  Company 
D,  42  men,  into  the  new  regimental  camp  at  Brook  Farm  at 
West  Roxbury.  Captain  Abbott's  Company  A,  from  Lowell, 
had  beaten  them  by  three  days.  They  found  Wilder  Dwight 
serving  as  Major  of  the  Regiment,  Greely  Curtis  was  Captain 
of  Company  B,  and  C.  F.  Morse  (afterward  Colonel  of  the 
Second),  First  Lieutenant.  "Bill"  Sedgwick  got  the  first 
lieutenancy  in  Company  D,  Higginson  being  Second  Lieu- 
tenant. "Bob"  Shaw  was  First  Lieutenant  in  Company  F, 
Richard  Cary  was  Captain  of  Company  G,  and  Henry  Russell 
First  Lieutenant.  In  Company  H,  T.  L.  Motley  was  First 
Lieutenant,  and  Stephen  Perkins  Second  Lieutenant.  The 
regimental  surgeon  was  Lucius  Manlius  Sargent,  Jr.,  who  was 
afterward,  as  captain,  major  and  lieutenant-colonel  of  the  First 
Massachusetts  Cavalry,  the  superior  officer  of  Henry  Higgin- 
son and  Charles  F.  Adams,  both  of  whom  will  have  much  to 
say  about  him.  The  assistant  surgeon  was  Lincoln  R.  Stone, 
a  comrade  for  whom  Henry  Higginson  cherished  a  lifelong  af- 
fection. The  chaplain  was  the  Reverend  A.  H.  Quint,  who 
afterward  wrote  the  history  of  the  Regiment.1 

1  Record  of  the  Second  Massachusetts  Infantry,  by  Alonzo  H.  Quint,  Boston,  1867. 


148  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Brook  Farm  —  rechristened  "Camp  Andrew"  out  of  com- 
pliment to  the  Governor  —  had  seen  queer  gatherings  twenty- 
years  earlier,  during  the  Transcendental  picnic  ironically  im- 
mortalized by  Hawthorne's  "Blithedale  Romance."  But  its 
aspect  during  May  and  June  was  queerer  still. 

It  was  droll  work  [wrote  Higginson  afterward],  and  seemed 
like  a  frolic  to  the  men  at  first.  They  stood  guard  a  little,  ate, 
slept  and  played  leap-frog.  If  a  man  was  tired  of  walking  his 
beat,  he  'd  shout,  "Who'll  take  my  place?"  and  a  dozen  would 
answer,  "I  will."  In  the  afternoon  some  tents  were  pitched 
and  we  took  possession  of  them.  I  got  a  bit  of  bread  and  meat 
for  supper,  and  it  was  a  day  or  two  before  I  knew  of  any  regu- 
lar meals,  although  our  men  fared  sumptuously.  The  first 
night  in  camp  was  very  exciting  and  pretty  cold.  I  hardly 
slept.  .  .  .  Very  many  funny  incidents  occurred.  One  evening 
I  was  officer  of  the  guard  and  went  round  with  the  patrol,  tak- 
ing up  the  sentries.  All  was  going  regularly  until  an  old  man 
named  " Death"  refused  to  be  relieved  and  fall  in.  " I '11  not 
leave  my  post."  I  told  him  it  was  orders.  "No."  I  explained 
—  in  vain.  I  ordered.  "  I  may  be  killed,  but  I'll  never  desert 
my  post  alive."  I  threatened  punishment,  but  in  vain,  and  as 
soon  as  I  approached  him,  he  lunged  most  vigorously  at  me 
with  his  bayonet.  So  I  left  him,  and  reported  to  the  officer  of 
the  day,  who  went  with  me  to  try  his  authority.  "  Death  "  re- 
peated that  we  might  overpower  him,  but  he'd  never  leave  his 
post  alive.  So  we  rushed  on  him  and  upset  him,  and  he  was 
put  in  the  guard-house.  .  .  . 

Gradually  some  degree  of  order  was  secured,  for  the  colonel 
and  lieutenant-colonel  were  West  Pointers,  who  knew  their 
business.  The  rations  were  good,  the  equipment  of  Enfield 
rifles  was  adequate,  and  the  regiment  was  well  clothed  in  the 
regular  uniform  of  the  United  States  Army.  As  a  concession  to 
the  traditions  of  the  Massachusetts  militia,  the  men  of  each 
company  went  through  the  form  of  electing  their  own  officers, 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  149 

although  these  officers  had  been  already  appointed  and  com- 
missioned by  the  State.  Some  of  the  companies  were  not  full* 
and  as  more  recruits  were  needed,  Lieutenant  Higginson  was 
detailed  to  drill  a  club  of  Germans  in  South  Boston.  He  gave 
his  orders  in  their  native  language,  and  was  amused  to  note 
that,  when  they  were  directed  to  choose  their  officers,  each  man 
voted  for  himself.  Most  of  these  men  went  into  the  Twentieth 
Regiment  subsequently,  and  did  excellent  service. 

Each  day  at  noon  the  young  officers  at  Brook  Farm  report- 
ed to  Lieutenant-Colonel  Andrews  for  instruction,  reciting 
their  lessons  to  him  in  a  little  farmhouse  near  the  gate  of  the 
camp. 

We  were  usually  so  tired  that  we  could  not  recite,  and  we 
had  really  no  time  to  study,  but  somehow  or  other  we  learned 
what  we  had  to  do.  He  used  to  catechize  us  about  all  sorts  of 
points,  give  instruction  about  the  drill  and  about  the  control  of 
the  men,  the  feeding  of  the  men,  and  many  other  smaller 
points.  Men  were  taught  to  stand  up  when  they  were  spoken 
to,  to  stand  in  the  presence  of  officers,  to  wash  themselves 
properly,  and,  in  short,  were  disciplined.  Presently,  our  drill 
became  so  attractive  that  people  used  to  come  and  see  us,  and 
the  parades  which  were  given  every  evening  were  visited  by  a 
large  concourse  of  people  —  friends  and  neighbors. 

On  June  26  the  "friends  and  neighbors"  all  appeared  for  the 
ceremony  of  presenting  the  United  States  flag  to  the  regiment. 
Mr.  J.  Lothrop  Motley  made  the  speech  of  presentation,  and 
Colonel  Gordon  an  eloquent  response.  According  to  the 
"  Boston  Advertiser,"  "The  regiment  was  drawn  up  in  line  of 
battle,  and  presented  a  fine  and  soldierly  appearance.  Their 
movements  all  indicated  a  high  state  of  efficiency  and  drill." 
Let  us  hope  that  the  reporter  was  qualified  to  judge;  at  any 
rate,  one  platoon  was  commanded  by  the  Second  Lieutenant  of 
Company  D,  the  First  Lieutenant  being  indisposed.  It  was  a 
proud  afternoon  for  George  Higginson  and  his  son. 


150  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

One  brief  note  to  the  father  is  now  the  only  discoverable 
letter  written  by  Henry  from  the  Brook  Farm  camp.  Its  first 
sentence  is:  "Will  you  get  Charley  a  pistol  from  me?"  Charles 
Lowell  had  just  secured  a  captain's  commission  at  Washing- 
ton, in  the  Third  United  States  Cavalry.  The  last  sentence  is: 
"Ask  S.  [Stephen  Perkins]  to  pass  the  night,  and  give  him  some 
Hungarian  wine." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  July  6  the  regiment  got  its  orders  to 
move  South.  "Camp  Andrew"  was  broken  up,  and  the  ghosts 
of  the  Transcendentalists  once  more  took  possession  of  that 
deserted  hillside. 

On  the  8th  of  July  —  a  very  hot  day  —  we  took  the  train 
to  Boston,  marched  through  the  city,  rested  a  while  on  the 
Common,  and  then  took  the  train  again  for  Providence  and  the 
boat  to  New  York,  where  we  arrived  in  the  morning.  There 
we  rested  in  the  park,  where  now  the  post-office  is,  and  by  and 
by,  when  our  wagons  had  been  got  onto  the  boats,  we  went 
across  the  bay  to  Elizabeth,  and  again  took  the  train,  and 
turned  up  the  next  day  at  Hagerstown,  Maryland. 

Higginson's  commission  as  first  lieutenant  dated  from  July  8. 
I  have  often  heard  him  say  that,  among  the  thirty-six  com- 
missioned officers  of  the  Second,  there  were  not  half  a  dozen 
who  went  South  with  the  intention  to  free  the  slaves ;  that  they 
went  to  save  the  Union,  but  as  soon  as  they  reached  Virginia, 
they  all  turned  "anti-slavery."  Higginson  himself  had,  as  we 
know,  been  "anti-slavery"  from  boyhood.  His  remark  about 
the  other  officers  is  corroborated  by  the  letters  written  from 
the  front  by  Chaplain  Quint  in  October.  "Our  men  are  fight- 
ing for  the  flag,  not  for  the  abolition  of  slavery.  So  far  as  the 
army  feels,  slavery  is  not  a  prominent  theme  or  thought.  The 
supremacy  of  law,  and  the  honor  of  the  stars  and  stripes  — 
these  are  the  soldiers'  principles.  ...  At  the  same  time,  if 
there  is  any  work  which  our  soldiers  loathe,  it  is  the  returning 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  151 

of  fugitive  slaves.  They  despise  it.  .  .  .  But  they  are  not 
fighting  for  '  abolition.' "  Yet  when  this  letter,  which  originally 
appeared  in  the  "  Congregationalist,"  was  reprinted  in  1864, 
the  author  added  this  significant  footnote:  "I  was  right  then, 
but  I  should  not  be  right  to  use  the  same  language  now.  The 
feelings  of  the  army  have  gradually  and  totally  changed.  Few 
soldiers  of  any  rank  but  now  detest  slavery  and  mean  to 
fight  it."1 

The  Second  Massachusetts  saw  hard  fighting  enough  before 
Colonel  C.  F.  Morse  marched  them  into  Richmond  on  May  II, 
1865,  four  years  to  a  day  after  the  first  detachment  reached 
Brook  Farm.  Of  the  thirty-six  original  officers,  but  four  re- 
mained, and  of  the  thousand  men  first  enlisted,  less  than  a 
hundred  entered  Richmond.  But  from  July  to  October,  1861, 
—  when  Lieutenant  Higginson  was  transferred  to  the  new  First 
Massachusetts  Cavalry  with  the  rank  of  captain,  —  the  Second 
marched  and  countermarched  and  camped  along  the  Potomac, 
almost  without  firing  a  shot.  Fording  the  Potomac  at  Williams- 
port  on  July  II,  they  reported  at  Patterson's  headquarters, 
and  started  for  Winchester  to  face  Johnston.2  But  Johnston 
easily  effected  his  union  with  Beauregard  at  Manassas,  and  on 
the  2 1st  came  the  battle  of  Bull  Run.  The  Second  Massachu- 
setts had  been  ordered  back  to  hold  Harper's  Ferry,  and  was 
the  first  Northern  regiment  to  enter  it. 

That  night  I  was  on  guard  [wrote  Lieutenant  Higginson]. 
As  I  had  not  been  to  sleep  the  night  before,  the  task  was  not 
easy.  I  sat  on  a  fence-rail,  and  whenever  I  began  to  fall,  I 
waked  up.  I  walked  up  and  down  and  did  everything  to  keep 
myself  alive,  and  certainly  went  to  sleep  part  of  the  time  while 
I  was  walking.  .  .  .  Seventeen   regiments  of   three-months 

1  See  A.  H.  Quint's  The  Potomac  and  the  Rapidan  (Boston,  1864),  p.  49. 

2  "The  2nd  Massachusetts  Volunteers,  a  three-years  regiment,  came  to  us  here 
[Martinsburg]  and  I  for  the  first  time  saw  a  well-disciplined  volunteer  regiment. 
They  were  dressed  and  equipped  in  Regular  Army  fashion  and  were  a  splendid- 
looking  set  of  men." —  Col.  T.  L.  Livermore,  Days  and  Events  (Boston,  1920),  p.  15. 


152  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

men  have  crossed  the  river  for  home,  and  we  are  thankful  for 
it.  Such  a  set  of  untamed  and  undisciplined  wild-cats  you 
never  saw.  They  steal,  they  get  drunk.  We  have  four  com- 
panies in  the  town  guarding  the  houses  and  stores  against 
these  robbers.  .  .  .  Talk  to  the  men  as  we  will,  they  will  not 
take  care  of  themselves.  Jim  [Savage]  is  under  the  weather  just 
now  and  will  have  to  be  off  duty  a  day  or  two.  Sedgwick 
stands  it  well  so  far.  Stephen  has  been  starving  considerably, 
as  indeed  we  all  have.  ...  I  am  well  and  strong  and  shall 
bear  more  work  than  most  of  the  men.  The  want  of  good 
officers  is  surprising.  ...  I  am  glad  of  the  defeat  at  Bull 
Run,  and  believe  it  will  be  productive  of  good  to  us. 

The  lieutenant's  list  of  articles  that  he  wishes  his  father  to 
procure  for  him  in  Boston  reads  curiously,  now  that  sixty 
years  have  passed.  It  includes  "a  buffalo-robe,"  "an  India 
rubber  blanket,"  "a  pair  of  strong  suspenders,"  "three  pairs 
of  1st  Lieut,  patent  Infantry  shoulder-straps,  two  pairs  of 
Captain's  ditto,"  "a  bit  of  wash-leather  to  polish  my  sword," 
"one  pair  of  thin  cotton  drawers."  That  "two  pairs  of  Cap- 
tain's ditto"  shows  pleasing  forethought  for  what  might 
happen. 

Meanwhile  the  Second  Regiment  marched  back  and  forth 
under  General  Banks's  none  too  competent  directions,  and 
"prayed  daily  for  a  fight."  The  weather,  fine  at  first,  grew 
cold,  and  sickness  increased  ominously.  There  was  a  good  deal 
of  drinking,  and  in  some  of  the  regiments  brigaded  with  the 
Second  a  marked  lack  of  discipline.  Colonel  Gordon  dis- 
covered in  one  of  these  regiments,  "dressed  in  full  uniform  and 
enrolled  as  a  soldier  regularly  mustered  into  the  service,  a 
young  woman  of  about  eighteen  years  of  age.  She  had  been  in 
the  regiment  about  a  month ;  until  within  a  day  or  two  there 
had  been  no  suspicion  of  her  sex.  I  am  not  aware  that  her 
presence  tended  to  elevate  the  standard  of  character  in  her 
company.  She  could  smoke  a  pipe,  and  swear  like  a  veteran." l 

1  Brook  Farm  to  Cedar  Mountain,  p.  57. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  153 

Lieutenant  Higginson  and  Captain  Greely  Curtis  had  plenty 
of  court-martial  duty  to  perform. 

I  was  officer  of  the  guard  at  Darnestown  [wrote  the  former] 
just  before  the  battle  of  Ball's  Bluff.  A  private  who  had  been 
disorderly  in  the  ranks  was  sent  to  me  by  his  captain  to  be 
punished.  He  came  very  drunk,  talking  and  swearing.  I 
ordered  him  to  keep  still  and  march  on  —  as  a  precaution, 
though  I  did  n't  think  much  about  it,  taking  the  cap  from  his 
charge.  He  walked  to  the  end  of  the  beat,  turned,  put  another 
cap  on  his  gun,  and  leveled  the  piece  at  my  belt,  saying  he'd 
blow  a  hole  through  me.  There  was  nothing  to  do,  we  could  n't 
reach  the  man  in  time,  and  my  sergeant  standing  by  had  no 
gun.  I  looked  steadily  at  him  and  said  peremptorily,  "Bring 
your  piece  to  your  shoulder  and  march  on."  Then  the  in- 
stinctive habit  of  obedience  told,  even  crazy-drunk  as  the  man 
was.  Clap  went  the  piece  to  his  shoulder,  and  on  he  marched 
towards  us.  My  sergeant  then  took  the  musket  away  and 
Martin  marched  until  he  dropped.  He  was  afterwards  court- 
martialed,  but  let  off,  and  I  see  him  now,  an  English  Jew, 
down-town,  selling  pictures.  It  would  have  been  an  eternal 
disgrace  to  our  regiment  if  an  officer  had  been  shot  by  a  private. 

On  September  14  he  wrote  his  father:  "The  20th  Mass.  has 
just  passed  up  the  River  about  two  miles  from  here.  Paul 
Revere  [a  Latin  School  and  Harvard  College  friend]  said  that 
he  had  not  taken  off  his  clothes  for  three  days;  he  will  think 
nothing  of  ten  days  soon  without  a  change."  It  was  only  five 
weeks  later  that  Major  Revere,  wounded  and  captured  after 
desperate  fighting  at  Ball's  Bluff,  was  sent  to  Libby  Prison 
and  to  the  horrors  of  the  Henrico  County  Jail,  where  the  lack  of 
a  change  of  clothing  was  the  least  of  his  troubles.  He  was  after- 
ward exchanged,  and  fell  at  Gettysburg. 

Higginson  himself  saw  the  aftermath  of  this  disaster  at 
Ball's  Bluff,  where  the  Twentieth  Massachusetts  suffered  so 
terribly.  He  pictures  it  with  a  sort  of  Tolstoyan  simplicity :  — 


154  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

One  evening,  just  after  drill,  we  were  ordered  to  march.  We 
heard  that  there  had  been  a  severe  fight  on  the  river,  and  we 
were  to  go  as  fast  as  we  could.  We  marched  all  night,  going 
right  through  a  considerable  stream,  and  presently  it  began  to 
rain,  and  toward  morning,  as  we  were  pegging  along,  we  came 
across  various  men  coming  back,  who  said  that  we  had  had  a 
terrible  beating.  This  was  the  battle  of  Ball's  Bluff.  We 
reached  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  there  were  various  men 
in  the  houses  thereabouts,  and  troops  lying  pretty  near  to  the 
point  we  reached ;  and  we  then  learned  how  our  men  had  gone 
across  the  river,  had  been  attacked  and  driven  back,  and  how 
much  harm  had  been  done.  All  this  time  it  was  raining  as 
hard  as  it  well  could,  and  we  were  wet  through.  I  heard  that 
a  canal  boat  was  going  down  the  river,  and  that  various  men 
whom  I  knew  were  on  board.  I  ran  down  and  found  Caspar 
Crowninshield  on  the  stern  of  the  canal  boat  in  a  pair  of 
drawers  and  an  overcoat.  He  gave  me  a  hand,  and  I  got  up  on 
the  boat,  heard  his  story,  saw  Willy  Putnam  and  various  others 
lying  down  below.  Willy  Putnam  had  been  shot  in  the  stomach 
and  could  hardly  speak,  and  there  were  various  other  men 
badly  wounded. 

William  Lowell  Putnam's  wound  proved  mortal.  He  was 
one  of  the  three  nephews  whom  James  Russell  Lowell  was  to 
immortalize  in  the  "  Biglow  Papers."  Higginson  had  seen  much 
of  him  in  those  happy  spring  days  at  Florence  in  1857.  Put- 
nam's cousin,  Lieutenant  James  Jackson  Lowell,  and  Lieuten- 
ant O.  W.  Holmes,  Jr.,  were  among  the  wounded;  Colonel 
W.  R.  Lee  and  Lieutenant  C.  L.  Bartlett  and  many  another 
friend  of  Higginson  escaped  unhurt.  The  Germans  whom  he 
had  drilled  in  South  Boston  were  mainly  in  Company  C,  which 
was  shot  to  pieces.1 

On  October  31,  ten  days  after  the  battle,  Higginson  and 

1  The  best  detailed  account  of  the  battle  of  Ball's  Bluff  is  in  George  A.  Bruce's 
Twentieth  Regiment  Massachusetts  Volunteers,  Boston,  1906. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  155 

Greely  Curtis  received  their  commissions  in  the  First  Massa- 
chusetts Cavalry,  and  resigned  from  the  Second  Regiment. 
It  was  about  to  go  into  winter  quarters,  and  they  saw  no 
chance  of  active  service  for  many  months.  It  also  appears 
from  Henry's  letters  to  his  father  that  his  relations  with  Colo- 
nel Gordon  were  not  cordial,  and  he  was  glad  of  the  change. 
So  the  Second  went  on  without  him,  to  Cedar  Mountain  and 
Antietam,  to  Chancellorsville  and  Gettysburg,  and  in  Sher- 
man's march  to  the  sea.  Major  Curtis  and  Captain  Higginson 
drove  over  to  the  camp  of  the  Twentieth  Massachusetts  to  say 
good-bye,  and  then  took  a  wagon  for  Washington,  on  their 
way  back  to  Boston,  where  their  new  regiment  was  to  be 
mustered  in.  Higginson's  Civil  War  Reminiscences  continue 
the  story:  — 

I  had  been  feeling  very  queer  for  three  or  four  days,  and  by 
the  time  I  got  to  Washington  did  not  very  well  know  what  I 
was  doing.  Apparently  I  had  a  very  bad  cold  and  was  feverish. 
The  next  day  we  took  a  train  for  New  York,  and  reached  there 
about  midnight,  when  we  went  to  the  Astor  House,  and  there 
again  I  felt  wretched.  The  next  day  we  again  took  the  train  for 
Boston,  and  I  probably  slept  most  of  the  time.  When  I  ar- 
rived in  Boston,  Greely  Curtis  had  disappeared,  he  having 
been  left  on  the  way  by  some  accident.  I  got  a  carriage  and 
drove  to  Wendell  Holmes's  house,  told  them  of  his  son  and 
that  he  was  doing  pretty  well,  drove  to  Greely  Curtis's  house 
and  told  them  that  he  was  on  the  way,  and  would  be  there 
pretty  soon,  and  then  drove  to  my  father's  house,  where  I 
turned  up  at  ten  o'clock  or  so  at  night.  I  had  a  longing  for  a 
drink  of  lemonade,  and  this  longing  had  lasted  forty-eight 
hours,  and  I  had  not  got  it.  My  father  looked  at  me,  and  in 
fifteen  minutes  appeared  with  Doctor  Ware,  who  told  me  to  go 
to  bed.  My  nose  had  been  bleeding  a  good  deal,  and  continued 
to  bleed,  and  the  next  day  they  found  that  I  had  typhoid 
fever,  which  kept  me  fast  for  a  good  many  weeks. 


156  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Typhoid  fever  was  not  an  inspiring  close  of  the  first  phase  of 
Higginson's  military  life,  nor  was  it  a  good  omen  for  his 
campaign  of  1862  as  a  cavalryman.  But  late  in  December  he 
had  strength  enough  to  join  his  new  comrades  in  their  muddy, 
freezing,  desolate  camp  at  Readville. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  in  April,  1861,  the  Federal 
army  had  only  five  regular  regiments  of  cavalry,  to  which  a 
sixth  was  then  added.  Militia  cavalry  companies  soon  volun- 
teered, but  throughout  1861  the  superiority  of  the  Confederate 
cavalry  was  manifest,  and  this  superiority  was  easily  main- 
tained during  1862.  By  the  summer  of  1863,  a  measure  of 
equality  was  at  last  obtained  by  the  North,  and  in  1864  and 
1865  the  Confederate  cavalry,  in  spite  of  brilliant  leadership, 
was  inferior  in  numbers  and  equipment.1  But  in  1862  the 
North  was  only  beginning  to  learn  its  lesson.  There  was  no 
cavalry  bureau  at  Washington,  no  general  in  command  over 
that  branch  of  the  service,  and  no  Federal  officer  of  high  rank 
in  the  field  seemed  to  understand  the  proper  use  of  mounted 
troops.  They  were  wasted  and  demoralized,  frittered  away 
in  random  futilities.  The  organization  and  record  of  the 
First  Massachusetts  Cavalry  illustrate  the  amateurishness 
of  method  and  the  squandering  of  splendid  material  which 
crippled  the  Northern  cavalry  until  the  essential  lessons  had 
been  learned.  Henry  Higginson's  experience  was  fairly  typical. 

Governor  Andrew  of  Massachusetts  had  determined,  in 
September,  1861,  to  raise  a  cavalry  regiment.  Plenty  of  men 
from  various  Dragoons,  Lancers,  and  Horse-Guards  organiza- 
tions were  ready  to  enlist.  The  Governor  secured  as  colonel  a 
Virginian  in  the  United  States  Army,  Robert  Williams,  a 
graduate  of  West  Point,  who  had  distinguished  himself  there 
as  an  instructor  of  cavalry.  He  was  an  admirable  disciplina- 
rian and  organizer.  But  according  to  Charles  Francis  Adams, 
who  served  under  him  and  proposes  to  "deal  kindly  with  him," 

1  This  matter  is  fully  discussed  in  chapter  1  of  the  History  of  the  First  Regiment 
of  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  by  B.  W.  Crowninshield,  Boston,  1891. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  157 

—  an  ominous  phrase,  —  "he  was  ail-outside.  There  was  no 
real  stuff  in  him.  .  .  .  As  an  officer,  in  presence  of  the  enemy 
or  under  the  stress  of  campaign,  Williams  was  an  utter  failure; 
and  so  recognized."1 

As  lieutenant-colonel,  the  Governor  appointed  a  member  of 
his  own  staff,  Horace  Binney  Sargent,  first  scholar  in  the 
Harvard  class  of  1843,  and  a  graduate  of  the  Law  School.  He 
looked  well  on  horseback.  His  brother,  Lucius  Manlius  Sar- 
gent, Jr.,  was  successively  captain,  major  and  lieutenant-col- 
onel in  the  regiment,  and  fell  gallantly  in  action  in  December, 
1864.  Both  brothers  were  brave  and  energetic,  but  without 
military  training,  or  the  gift  for  handling  men.2 

That  autumn  was  unusually  cold  and  wet,  and  it  took  all 
the  experience  of  Colonel  Williams  and  the  enthusiasm  of 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Sargent  to  organize  the  Readville  camp 
into  anything  like  discipline.  Many  horses  were  sick,  and  the 
men  were  untrained  in  caring  for  them.  Mounted  drill  began 
about  December  1 ,  but  there  was  no  issue  of  horse-equipments 
until  December  15.  The  regiment  paraded  in  Boston  four  days 
later,  but  it  was  too  cold  for  pomp  and  circumstance.  Henry 
Higginson,  just  out  of  bed,  had  been  assigned  to  Company  A, 
as  senior  captain  of  the  regiment.   He  says  of  his  company:  — 

They  were  a  remarkably  tough  set  of  men  of  all  sorts  of  oc- 
cupations, among  them  prize-fighters,  barkeepers  and  the 
like,  and  also  some  very  good  men.  They  had  had  as  their 
first  captain  a  barkeeper,  who  could  do  nothing  with  them, 
and  he  was  dismissed  and  I  was  put  in  charge.  ...  I  had 
to  ride  and  look  after  my  men,  do  the  regular  guard-duty, 
drill,  etc.,  and  I  knew  nothing  about  it  and  had  to  learn  as  I 
went. 

1  Charles  Francis  Adams,  An  Autobiography  (Boston,  1916),  p.  138. 

2  See  John  T.  Morse's  Memoir  of  Henry  Lee  (Boston,  1905),  p.  165,  and  C.  F. 
Adams,  Autobiography,  p.  146.  It  would  be  needless  to  allude  to  the  ancient  bitter- 
nesses in  the  regiment,  if  they  were  not  essential  to  an  understanding  of  the  real 
situation  of  Henry  Higginson  and  his  brother  officers  in  the  coming  campaigns. 


158  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

It  was  a  comfort  to  him  that  Greely  Curtis,  his  boyhood 
friend  and  comrade  in  the  Second  Infantry,  was  now  major 
of  the  First  Cavalry.  Among  his  fellow  captains  were  Caspar 
Crowninshield,  who  had  distinguished  himself  at  Ball's  Bluff, 
T.  L.  Motley,  L.  M.  Sargent,  Jr.,  and  S.  E.  Chamberlain,  a 
former  fireman  in  Cambridge,  who  rose  later  to  be  colonel  of 
the  regiment.  Charles  F.  Adams,  B.  W.  Crowninshield,  and 
Pelham  Curtis  were  first  lieutenants,  and  among  the  second 
lieutenants  were  H.  P.  Bowditch,  Nathaniel  Bowditch,  George 
Blagden,  Louis  Cabot,  W.  H.  Forbes,  Channing  Clapp,  and 
Arnold  Rand.  A  "Harvard  crowd,"  unmistakably,  and  their 
subsequent  record  proved  that,  whatever  Colonel  Williams's 
own  defects  as  a  fighter  might  be,  he  had  a  keen  eye  for  pick- 
ing good  officer  material. 

On  Christmas  Day  the  First  Battalion,  Companies  A,  B, 
C,  and  D,  under  Major  Curtis,  left  Readville  for  Annapolis, 
Maryland,  expecting  to  join  Burnside's  expedition  to  North 
Carolina.  But  the  War  Department  changed  its  plans;  and 
after  a  few  weeks  of  drill  at  Annapolis  the  First  Battalion 
joined  the  second  and  third  as  a  part  of  General  Hunter's 
Expeditionary  Corps.  Hunter  had  captured  the  forts  at  Hil- 
ton Head,  South  Carolina,  had  taken  possession  of  Beaufort 
and  a  small  territory  on  the  sea-islands,  and  now  threatened 
Savannah  and  Charleston,  in  case  Fort  Pulaski  should  fall. 

Exactly  how  useful  cavalry  might  prove  on  Beaufort 
Island,  no  one  seemed  to  know.  In  case  of  a  real  invasion  of 
South  Carolina,  they  could  be  used.  So  down  the  cavalry 
sailed,  on  improvised  transports,  and  went  into  camp  at  Beau- 
fort and  Hilton  Head.  They  found  plenty  of  roses,  jasmine, 
and  blackberries,  even  in  February,  also  mosquitoes,  sand-flies, 
and  fleas,  but  no  fighting.  The  weather  was  fine  and  they  drilled 
diligently.  Captain  Higginson  writes  to  his  father  in  March :  — 

I  was  ignorant  as  a  baby  of  horses  when  I  joined  the  regi- 
ment at  Readville,  and  yet  knew  that  I  must  take  great  care 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  159 

of  my  company  horses  as  my  means  of  making  my  men  effi- 
cient. Now  I  know  very  little  of  horses,  but  I  have  succeeded 
in  making  my  men  work  at  them  in  every  way  until  they  look 
tolerably  well.  ...  I  find  great  and  continual  pleasure  in 
this  occupation,  and  foresee  the  same  for  a  long  time.  Infantry 
drill  once  learned  is  monotonous,  but  riding  is  a  lasting  excite- 
ment and  delight. 

The  captain's  letters  home,  during  that  spring,  are  the  hap- 
piest that  he  wrote  in  war-time.  He  was  doing  his  work  well, 
and  knew  it,  and  Colonel  Williams,  who  at  this  time  had  the 
regiment  well  in  hand,  selected  him  for  promotion.  His  com- 
mission as  major  dated  from  March  26.  He  wrote  to  his  father 
on  April  12:  "I  am  very  much  pleased  to  receive  promotion 
in  our  regiment,  and  all  the  more  because  I  did  not  expect  it. 
Three  other  captains  had,  as  I  thought,  a  better  chance  than 
I."   The  new  major  wrote  gayly  to  his  sister  Mary:  — 

Beaufort,  S.C.,  May  20,  1862. 
Dear  little  Molly:  — 

What  do  you  want  to  know  about  our  camp?  One  camp  is 
very  like  another,  the  difference  being  that  with  us  cavalry 
folks  a  long  rope  is  stretched  down  the  company  street,  to 
which  the  horses  are  tied.  We  keep  very  tidy  and  clean,  strike 
(that  is  take  down)  the  tents  three  times  a  week,  send  the 
men  to  bathe  as  often,  take  all  the  bedding,  etc.,  out  of  the 
tents  every  fair  day,  and  in  short  do  everything  we  can  to 
keep  healthy.  We  have  lost  two  men  by  death  since  Septem- 
ber, the  regiment  next  us  sixty.  They  are  pigs.  If  we  never 
see  a  fight,  we  all  have  nevertheless  learned  to  care  for  and 
manage  men :  you  'd  be  surprised  to  find  how  little  our  intel- 
ligent Yankees  know  of  caring  for  their  own  health.  They  eat 
and  drink  all  sorts  of  things. 

Last  week,  as  you  know,  I  sent  my  mare  home;  she'll  do 
nicely  at  Lenox  and  will  take  you  over  the  ground  a  little 


1 60  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

faster  than  you  ever  went  with  horseflesh.  But  she  is  not  the 
kind  of  beast  for  me.  My  new  horse  came  to  me  Saturday,  and 
is  a  beauty.  We  don't  like  to  trot  here,  you  know,  but  do  like 
to  canter.  The  mare  can  trot  very  well  and  very  fast,  but  she 
gets  into  a  great  fret  if  another  horse  comes  near  her,  and  then 
she  will  break  into  a  gallop  and  run  like  a  wild-cat.  This  new 
horse  and  my  other  (taken  from  the  regiment)  canter  and 
gallop  well  and  trot  also  if  I  like ;  they  are  quiet-tempered  and 
yet  full  of  life.  You  see,  Molly,  there  is  quite  enough  to  do 
even  on  drill  without  having  a  horse  wild  with  excitement  to 
bother  one;  and  when  we  come  to  actual  service,  it  will  be  es- 
sential to  have  one's  horse  well  in  hand.  My  new  horse  comes 
from  an  officer  in  a  Rhode  Island  regiment,  —  who  has  more 
than  he  wants,  —  and  is  part  Arabian.  If  we  ever  get  home 
with  our  nags,  you  shall  have  the  jolliest  ride  in  the  world  on 
him.  My  big  horse,  popularly  known  as  "Rats-in-a-barrel," 
and  called  for  short  "  Rats,"  is  an  excellent  work-horse,  handy, 
light,  strong  and  ugly;  he  can  run  fast  for  a  short  distance. 
Saturday  we  are  going  to  have  a  very  short  race,  all  of  us  offi- 
cers here:  I'll  tell  you  who  wins,  if  the  steamer  does  not  go 
till  then;  but  I  hope  to  be  in  first,  for  "Rats"  starts  very 
quickly  indeed. 

You  can't  imagine  how  big  I  feel  now  that  I  've  a  camp  under 
me.  A  year  ago  this  time  I  was  learning  guard-duty  and 
squad-drill  on  foot;  now  I  ride  around  on  a  big  horse,  have 
two  rows  of  brass  buttons  on  my  coat  (you  should  have  seen 
the  men  look  last  night  at  parade,  as  I  wore  the  new  coat  for 
the  first  time),  preside  at  parade,  go  to  see  the  general  com- 
manding our  brigade,  and  am  generally  just  as  big  as  I  can 
swell.  There  is  one  thing  about  it:  I  don't  swear  so  much  as 
when  I  had  to  do  directly  with  the  men.  I  've  a  real  pretty 
cap  and  beautiful  boots  and  spurs,  and  so,  with  my  new  coat, 
it  is  quite  a  pity  that  my  picture  should  n't  be  taken.  My  hair 
and  beard  are  as  short  as  scissors  can  cut  them,  which  adds  to 
the  beautiful  effect.  .  .  . 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  161 

Give  my  love  to  father  and  the  other  children;  Jim  will  be 
at  home  one  of  these  days,  but  not  in  time  enough  for  the  war. 
I  'm  afraid  that  our  regiment  will  never  see  a  fight.  Where  are 
you  going  this  summer?  We've  had  bushels  of  blackberries 
etc.  for  several  weeks,  and  to-day  have  very  hot  weather:  we 
do  nothing  from  9  o'clk  a.m.  to  3  P.M.;  our  mounted  drill-hour 
is  from  6  to  8  a.m.  Good-bye,  little  girl :  be  good  and  you  '11  be 
happy.  H. 

It  will  be  noted  that  the  Major's  love  for  horses  developed 
rapidly.  It  was  to  become  a  lifelong  passion.  His  war  letters 
are  full  of  the  exploits  of  his  favorite  horses:  "  Rats,"  "  Piggy," 
"Nutmeg,"  and  a  bigger  horse  named  "Grater."  Like  all 
cavalry  officers  of  this  period,  in  both  armies,  he  was  greatly 
worried  over  the  difficulty  of  securing  suitable  remounts. 
Each  officer  in  1862  had  to  buy  his  own  horses,  and  the  faith- 
ful George  Higginson  is  kept  busy  looking  at  "Howland 
Shaw's  mare,"  at  "that  mare  in  Haverhill,"  and  a  dozen  more, 
that  might  perhaps  be  bought  reasonably  and  shipped  South. 

In  the  meantime  General  Hunter's  artillery  had  opened 
upon  Fort  Pulaski.  "They  began  yesterday  morning  [April  10] 
upon  Fort  Pulaski  (the  fort  is  on  the  Savannah  River  and  is 
very  strong),  and  have  been  firing  away  most  of  the  time 
since,  as  if  Hell  had  broken  loose.  Everyone  here  has  gone  to 
see  the  fun,  among  others,  Greely  and  Captain  Chamberlain 
of  ours."  The  fort  fell  on  the  next  day,  but  it  was  several 
weeks  before  the  invasion  of  the  mainland  was  attempted,  and 
it  proved  to  be  a  failure.  Eight  companies  of  the  First  Cavalry 
joined  in  the  attack  on  Charleston,  early  in  June,  but  Major 
Higginson,  with  two  companies,  was  left  behind  at  Beaufort 
—  "the  cussedest  luck."  In  the  James  Island  fight,  a  few 
days  later,  C.  F.  Adams  was  under  fire  for  the  first  time,  and 
"never  passed  a  more  pleasurable  morning  in  my  life.  The  ex- 
citement of  a  battlefield  is  grand . "  But  again  there  was  no  such 
luck  for  the  companies  under  Major  Higginson's  command. 


12 


162  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

His  account  of  a  young  rebel  prisoner  is  too  characteristic 
to  be  omitted :  — 

I  went  to  see  a  rebel  prisoner  wounded  and  taken  in  our  fight 
the  other  day.  He  begged  for  his  life,  when  we  came  up  at  the 
bridge,  and  was  astonished  at  our  kind  treatment  —  only  an- 
other proof  of  the  lies  so  industriously  circulated  at  the  South 
of  our  barbarity.  But  I  was  surprised  to  see  the  little  fellow 
this  morning  —  young  and  small,  with  beautiful  fair  hair 
thrown  back  from  his  forehead  which  was  high  and  fine,  a  deli- 
cately cut  nose  and  a  sweet  expression  about  his  mouth.  He 
spoke  only  a  few  words  and  with  pain,  but  those  few  betrayed 
that  he  was  of  gentle  blood  and  well-bred.  He  is  but  seventeen 
years  of  age,  and  took  his  father's  place  against  the  will  of  his 
mother,  as  his  father  was  drafted.  The  negroes  here  say  he  is 
a  Barnwell,  and  he  bears  a  resemblance,  I  think,  to  one  of 
that  family  in  college  with  me.  The  poor  boy  has  a  severe 
wound,  but  will  recover,  so  the  doctor  thinks.  I  took  a  great 
fancy  to  him,  and  should  much  like  to  send  his  mother  tidings 
of  him.   He  gives  his  name  as  Hughes. 

June  crept  by,  and  there  was  news  of  Banks's  retreat  to  the 
Potomac,  and  of  the  gallant  rear-guard  fighting  of  the  Second 
Massachusetts.  "  I  see  that  my  old  Company  D  suffered  much. 
It  is  too  bad.  If  we  had  been  there,  we  might  have  saved  many 
a  good  fellow."  James  Savage  had  distinguished  himself,  and 
Higginson  thinks  he  should  be  made  a  major.  The  promotion 
came,  in  fact,  before  this  letter  reached  Boston. 

June  turned  to  July,  and  the  weather  grew  fiercely  hot. 
Higginson  kept  "hearty  as  a  bull,"  he  writes,  but  his  weight 
of  175  pounds  was  soon  reduced  to  155,  and  many  of  his  fellow 
officers  broke  down.  There  was  bad  news  from  Virginia. 
"Poor  Jimmy  Lowell,"  Higginson  writes  on  July  23,  "or 
rather  poor  Cousin  Anna,  for  Jimmy  is  well  enough  off."1 

1  Lieutenant  James  Jackson  Lowell,  younger  brother  of  Charles  Russell  Lowell, 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  163 

Week  by  week  it  became  only  too  apparent  that  the  regi- 
ment was  wasted  in  South  Carolina. 


We  are  useless  here,  and  might  be  useful  at  the  North.  .  .  . 
Can  no  one  get  us  moved  North?  Ask  Mr.  Forbes  if  he  can't 
start  us.  ...  I  do  think  that  the  horizon  looks  very  stormy. 
I  hope  the  opinion  that  we  shall  not  get  back  our  lost  states 
is  gaining  ground,  in  order  to  save  future  disappointment.  If 
we  can  clean  out  Virginia,  Kentucky,  and  Tennessee,  and  keep 
the  Mississippi,  including  all  west  of  it,  for  ourselves,  we  shall 
do  well  enough.  The  Gulf  states,  once  shut  in  thus,  will  decay, 
and  will  in  time  come  again  into  our  hands.  But  this  war  has 
been  most  shamefully  managed  in  some  respects.  Halleck 
will,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  concentrate  all  the  troops,  including  the 
12,000  to  15,000  useless  men  in  this  Department,  and  will  thus 
sweep  Virginia  clean.   If  he  does  not,  God  help  the  land. 

This  was  written  to  his  father  on  August  10,  and  on  that 
same  day  Henry  wrote  to  his  brother  Jim,  who  was  still  linger- 
ing in  Germany  —  though  drilling  there  and  trying  to  get  a 
commission  at  Boston :  — 

...  I  remember  full  well  that  I  never  wanted  anyone's 
opinion  as  to  my  return  and  that  I  bided  my  time  with  perfect 
composure.  For  just  that  reason  I  've  not  urged  your  return, 
but  now  I  will  say  that  you  may  not  comprehend  fully  the  facts 
of  our  position  as  a  nation.  We  have  made  the  greatest  army 
in  the  world,  we  have  made  great  exertions,  we  have  offered 
money  freely,  we  have  waited  in  all  patience  for  victory  and 

had  fallen  at  Glendale,  near  Richmond,  crying:  "Don't  mind  me,  men:  go  for- 
ward." He  was  born  at  Elmwood,  —  the  home  of  his  uncle  James  Russell  Lowell 
in  Cambridge,  —  and  like  Charles  Lowell,  had  led  his  class  at  Harvard.  He  had 
been  wounded  at  Ball's  Bluff,  where  his  cousin,  William  Lowell  Putnam,  had  been 
killed.  There  are  touching  lines  about  him  by  James  Russell  Lowell  (Biglow 
Papers,  Second  Series,  No.  X),  and  he  is  one  of  the  six  dear  friends  of  Major  Hig- 
ginson  commemorated  by  the  monument  on  Soldiers  Field. 


1 64  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

deliverance  —  and  we  have  been  divided  by  our  own  leaders, 
thrashed,  aye  thrashed,  and  now  we  are  struggling  for  our  exist- 
ence. Our  hope  lies  in  reinforcements  and  then  in  unity  of 
action ;  if  Halleck  and  McClellan  cannot  manage  that,  we  shall 
go  to  the  devil.  You  cannot  gather  from  the  papers  nor  from 
letters  the  full  import  of  the  thing,  and  of  course  cannot  feel 
the  matter  as  we  living  in  the  midst  of  it  do.  Everyone  at  home 
is  straining  to  help  the  cause,  almost  everyone  going  to  the  war 
who  can  go  —  drafting  ought  to  commence  at  once.  Now, 
Jimmy,  you  will  feel  very  sorry  if  you  have  no  hand  in  the 
struggle  —  whether  we  sink  or  swim.  We  are  fighting  against 
slavery,  present  or  future,  and  we  are  struggling  for  the  right 
of  mankind  to  be  educated  and  to  think;  come  and  do  your 
part.  Of  your  father's  children  I  am  the  only  one  bearing  arms ; 
I  know  that  I  was  placed  exactly  right  for  the  emergency  and 
that  no  one  of  the  rest  of  you  was  so:  that  I  went  because  I 
could  n't  stay  at  home,  and  have  enjoyed  myself  highly  since; 
that  for  a  hundred  reasons  it  was  no  sacrifice,  but  an  enormous 
gratification  and  pleasure,  and  to  me,  as  education,  as  expe- 
rience, as  occupation,  as  good  pay  for  my  otherwise  idle  time. 
I  do  not  take  an  atom  of  credit  to  myself,  but  I  do  think  that 
the  family  quota  should  be  stronger.  ...  I  want  you  and 
Frank  to  learn  all  that  you  can  in  the  army,  and  to  have  the 
satisfaction  of  feeling  that  you  were  doing  your  part.  .  .  . 
Charley  Lowell  is  on  McClellan's  staff,  and  will  do  something 
there.  Jimmy  L.  is  dead,  poor  fellow.  We  are  burning  here  on 
the  sand,  and  are  of  no  use  to  anyone  —  thermometer  at  1 1 1 
degrees  in  the  shade  (to-day  120  in  the  shade).  I  am  hearty 
and  strong,  tho' pretty  thin.  We  are  praying  to  go  North.  .  .  . 
P.S.  Aug.  14.  —  Wre  are  just  ordered  North,  for  which, 
thank  God!  Another  call  for  300,000  men,  making  in  all 
600,000  called  for  this  summer,  has  come  and  they  're  go- 
ing to  draft.   Now  we'll  thrash  'em. 

When  these  letters  were  written,  Higginson  was  ignorant  of 
what  had  befallen  his  comrades  of  the  Second  Massachusetts 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  165 

on  the  previous  day,  August  9,  at  Cedar  Mountain.  Stonewall 
Jackson  had  cut  Banks's  corps  to  pieces.  The  Second  Massa- 
chusetts, fighting  heroically,  had  had  to  fall  back.  Of  its 
twenty- two  officers  in  action,  only  eight  escaped  unhurt. 
Thirty-five  per  cent  of  the  regiment  were  killed  or  wounded. 
Captains  Abbott,  Cary,  Goodwin  and  Williams,  with  Lieuten- 
ant Stephen  Perkins,  were  killed.  Major  James  Savage,  mor- 
tally wounded,  was  a  prisoner,  as  were  also  Captain  Henry  S. 
Russell,  —  who  had  stayed  to  help  Major  Savage,  —  Captain 
Quincy  and  Lieutenant  Miller.  Robert  G.  Shaw,  serving  as 
aid  to  General  Gordon,  was  untouched.  Halleck  telegraphed 
from  Washington  to  Major-General  Pope:  "I  congratulate  you 
and  your  army,  and  particularly  General  Banks  and  his  corps, 
on  your  hard-earned  and  brilliant  success  against  vastly 
superior  numbers."  But  this  was  only  military  rhetoric. 
Cedar  Mountain  was  a  stupid,  useless  sacrifice  of  brave  men, 
and  it  cost  Major  Higginson  two  of  his  most  intimate  friends. 
The  memory  of  James  Savage  and  Stephen  Perkins  haunted 
him  throughout  his  long  life ;  he  never  wearied  of  talking  and 
writing  of  them,  and  the  tragedy  of  their  deaths,  ennobled  by 
time  and  the  ultimate  triumph  of  their  cause,  affected  pro- 
foundly, as  we  shall  see,  the  whole  current  of  his  beneficent 
idealism. 

Both  James  Savage  and  Stephen  Perkins  had  "finished  in 
style,"  to  use  Kipling's  phrase.  "It  was  splendid,"  wrote 
Robert  Gould  Shaw,  who  was  to  "finish  in  style"  himself  at 
Fort  Wagner  less  than  a  year  later,  "to  see  those  sick  fellows 
walk  straight  up  into  the  shower  of  bullets  as  if  it  were  so  much 
rain;  men  who,  until  this  year,  had  lived  lives  of  perfect  ease 
and  luxury."  Perkins  died  instantly,  pierced  by  three  bullets.1 
Savage  had  an  arm  and  a  leg  shattered,  and  was  carried  as  a 
prisoner  to  Charlottesville,  where  he  was  tenderly  cared  for  by 
the  family  of  his  brother-in-law,  Professor  W.  B.  Rogers.   But 

1  He  had  written  to  Higginson  when  a  mere  boy,  "I  wonder  whether  we  shall 
go  on  constantly  expecting  life  to  unfold  itself,  and  the  great  possibilities  to  ap- 
pear in  us  and  outside  of  us,  until  we  are  surprised  that  death  has  come  for  us, 
when  we  hardly  seem  to  ourselves  to  have  lived." 


1 66  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

his  wounds  were  mortal.  "Of  all  the  officers  I  ever  saw,"  said  a 
private  soldier,  "Major  Savage  was  the  noblest  Christian 
gentleman."  And  Charles  Adams,  when  the  first  rumors  of  the 
disaster  at  Cedar  Mountain  reached  Hilton  Head,  wrote  in  his 
diary :"  Stephen  Perkins  is  reported  dead  .  .  .  the  ablest  man 
I  ever  knew,  the  finest  mind  I  ever  met."1 

Weeks  went  by  before  Higginson  could  bring  himself  to  be- 
lieve the  bad  news.  He  wrote  to  his  father  from  the  ship 
Planter  on  Sunday,  August  24:  — 

Here  we  are  lying  in  Hampton  Roads  with  a  rousing  north- 
easter singing  thro'  our  rigging.  We  got  here  yesterday  at 
three  o'clock  p.m.  after  a  very  favorable  and  pleasant  voyage, 
and  found  everything  heels  over  head,  officers,  soldiers,  sailors, 
teamsters,  niggers,  mules,  horses,  wagons,  steamers,  ordnance 
of  all  kinds  hastening  in  every  direction.  We  ought  to  have 
run  up  the  bay  and  up  the  Potomac  to  Acquia  Creek,  whither 
we  are  going,  last  night.  We  tried  to  start  this  morning,  but  it 
blew  too  hard  for  the  steamer  to  hold  us.  I  went  ashore  to  get 
some  orders ;  two  of  the  sailors  in  the  boat  ran  off,  so  another 
officer  and  myself  took  oars  and  tugged  away.  But  it  was  use- 
less with  so  tremendous  a  wind  and  sea ;  so  we  got  hold  of  a  tug 
laden  with  soldiers  and  were  at  last  taken  out  to  our  ship.  The 
tug  had  to  tow  us  thro'  this  smashing  sea,  and  bring  us  round 
thro'  the  trough  of  the  sea  without  swamping  the  boat.  She 
did  it,  God  knows  how,  but  it  was  a  job  to  get  aboard  the 
ship;  and  we  were  well  ducked.  I've  four  companies  with 
me,  and  three  more  have  run  up  the  river  in  the  McClellan 
and  Ericsson  with  the  colonel.  Greely  is  coming  very  soon  with 
some  more  companies.  Thank  God  that  we  are  out  of  South 
Carolina! 

We  heard  before  starting  of  Banks's  last  battle,  and  of  the 
dreadful  losses  there  sustained.    We  have  not  yet  received 

1  Admirable  sketches  of  Perkins  and  Savage  will  be  found  in  the  Harvard  Memo- 
rial Biographies. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  167 

authentic  accounts  of  the  fight,  and  cannot  believe  in  the  loss 
of  our  friends.  .  .  . 

They  are  on  their  last  legs  at  the  South.  Certain  it  is  that 
neither  they  nor  we  can  bear  this  tremendous  strain  much 
longer.  ...  I'm  ready  to  fight  ten  years,  but  the  country 
can't  and  won't  stand  it.  We  have  got  North  soon  enough 
for  the  great  fight  of  the  war,  thank  God  Almighty  —  and 
we'll  try  to  show  our  stuff. 

But  it  was  nearly  two  weeks  after  leaving  Hilton  Head  that 
the  Planter  came  to  anchor  at  Acquia  Creek,  in  the  Potomac, 
near  Fredericksburg.  The  Major  writes  on  September  2 :  — 

We  were  out  yesterday  and  the  day  before  on  picket  duty, 
covering  Gen.  Burnside's  retreat.  .  .  .  Heaven  only  knows 
the  position  of  affairs  here;  we  hear  all  sorts  of  stories,  but  I 
fancy  we  are  not  doing  brilliantly.  ...  I  shall  buy  no  more 
horses,  for  Uncle  Sam  will  furnish  a  beast  at  $8  a  month.  .  .  . 
I  was  horrified  to  hear  the  truth  about  the  2nd  Mass.  Poor 
Stephen!  and  Dick  Cary's  wife.1  But  we  live  so  fast  that  one 
can't  think  of  one  battle  more  than  a  day. 

Five  days  later  he  writes  from  Rockville,  Maryland:  "We 
have  nearly  done  this  war;  the  enemy  is  here  in  Maryland  in 
great  force,  and  we  are  thrashed."  This  was  just  after  Pope 
had  been  defeated  in  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run,  and  just 
before  Antietam. 

Higginson's  fragmentary  Reminiscences  of  the  Civil  War  — 
dictated  long  afterwards  —  give  some  vivid  glimpses  of  men 
and  military  movements  in  that  confused  period.  It  is  not  a 
military  historian  who  is  writing,  but  an  old  man  who  recalls 
what  most  impressed  him  at  the  time.  It  is  the  method  of  Tol- 
stoy's "War  and  Peace"  and  of  Stephen  Crane's  "  Red  Badge 
of  Courage." 

1  Captain  Richard  Cary  was  the  brother  of  Mrs.  Louis  Agassiz. 


1 68  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Just  then  the  army  was  falling  back  during  the  second  Bull 
Run  campaign,  and  we  could  hear  the  fighting  going  on  day- 
after  day.  General  Burnside  was  at  Falmouth  in  command, 
and  very  soon  we  were  ordered  north  to  Alexandria,  and  then 
through  Washington  into  Maryland.  The  army  was  in  the 
greatest  confusion;  Pope  had  been  badly  beaten,  and,  just  as 
we  reached  Alexandria,  everybody  was  streaming  into  that 
town,  and  nobody  knew  where  anybody  was.  I  passed  the 
night  riding  through  Alexandria  to  find  our  own  men,  part  of 
whom  had  gone  into  one  boat  and  part  in  another.  As  the 
colonel  was  away  and  the  lieutenant-colonel  was  ill  at  the 
north  and  the  senior  major  had  been  left  in  South  Carolina,  I 
was  in  command.  I  received  orders  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
to  picket  the  river  from  ten  miles  north  of  Washington  to 
Harper's  Ferry  or  some  point  near  that.  I  got  these  orders  at 
about  one  o'clock,  and  had  no  provisions  and  no  cooking-kits. 
I  managed  to  get  these  during  the  night,  and  towards  daylight 
found  my  men,  and  we  marched  through  Washington.  There 
I  ran  across  Charles  Lowell,  who  told  me  that  General  Mc- 
Clellan  had  taken  command  the  night  before,  and  that  things 
were  being  gotten  in  good  order.  We  reached  Georgetown, 
passed  the  night  there,  and  then  marched  north,  Colonel 
Williams  having  turned  up  from  Baltimore  and  taken  com- 
mand of  the  regiment.  When  we  got  near  Poolesville  we  were 
encamped,  and  a  large  body  of  cavalry  under  General  Pleason- 
ton  came  up.  Some  of  our  own  regiment  had  been  sent  to 
Poolesville  and  had  a  little  skirmish  there,  the  Confederate 
cavalry  being  in  charge  of  that  place.  We  lost  a  few  men,  but 
it  did  not  amount  to  anything. 

Then  the  whole  army  gradually  marched  north  to  Frederick. 
We  used  to  see  two  or  three  columns  abreast  marching  across 
the  fields,  in  the  roads,  etc.,  and  we  came  across  many  friends. 
One  day  we  saw  the  Second  Massachusetts  Infantry,  which  we 
had  served  with  before,  and  heard  something  of  the  terrible 
disaster  which  had  befallen  that  regiment  at  Cedar  Mountain, 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  169 

where  many  of  the  men  and  best  officers  were  killed,  and  the 
regiment  sacrificed  by  the  stupidity  of  General  Banks. 

We  saw  the  20th  regiment  too,  and  many  other  old  com- 
rades. One  of  these  days  we  stopped  for  the  noon  halt  in  a 
pleasant  field,  and  I  noticed  a  large  camp  of  general  officers 
nearby.  Asking,  I  found  that  it  was  General  McClellan's 
headquarters;  therefore,  I  went  there  to  inquire  for  Charles 
Lowell,  who  was  on  his  staff.  I  found  him  and  we  lay  on  the 
grass  discussing  all  manner  of  things  until  it  was  time  to  start. 
He  told  me  that  he  liked  the  general  very  much ;  that  he  was  a 
great  strategist,  but  not  so  decisive  in  action  as  he  should  be. 
He  said  that  he  was  like  the  Duke  of  Wellington  in  that  he  got 
everything  ready,  and  then  unlike  the  Duke  of  Wellington  in 
that  he  did  not  strike  resolutely  and  as  hard  as  possible.  He 
said  that  he  was  too  good-natured  and  too  considerate  of  his 
subordinates.  He  thought  that  our  campaign  would  be  success- 
ful, but  might  be  marred  by  this  irresolution  of  the  general. 

That  night  we  rode  into  Frederick  City,  found  it  in  great 
confusion,  and  at  last  passed  through  the  city  and  found 
quarters  in  a  big  pasture.  The  next  morning  we  started  again, 
and  soon  came  to  the  mountains  beyond  Frederick  City,  and 
all  of  a  sudden  came  across  some  of  the  enemy.  One  of  our 
batteries  was  brought  quickly  to  the  front  and  went  into  action, 
and  we  were  ordered  to  support  it,  the  enemy  firing  at  us  also; 
but  the  enemy's  battery  was  quickly  withdrawn,  and  we 
pushed  on  a  little  way.  There  was  hardly  a  skirmish,  and 
presently  we  came  to  the  hills  looking  toward  South  Mountain. 
There  I  was  put  to  the  foremost  post,  with  a  couple  of  guns 
and  a  squadron  or  two  of  cavalry,  and  we  went  to  bed  supper- 
less.  We  had  no  rations,  nor  had  we  received  any  for  some 
days,  and  had  picked  up  what  we  could  in  the  country.  We 
could  not  light  any  fire  because  we  were  watched  by  the  enemy, 
who  had  batteries  opposite  us,  and  we  knew  that  the  Confeder- 
ate army  was  on  the  South  Mountain  and  looking  towards  us. 
There  was  no  attack  at  night,  although  we  rather  expected  it. 


170  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

After  a  night  of  careful  watching  the  day  came,  and  the  army 
began  to  move  up.  Several  general  officers  came  to  the  hill  on 
which  I  passed  the  night,  and  took  observations  about  the 
Confederate  line.  Then  the  infantry  and  artillery  came  along 
in  very  good  spirits,  which  surprised  me  greatly,  for  the  army 
had  had  such  a  terrible  beating  before  Washington  that  I  sup- 
posed that  it  would  feel  downcast  —  nothing  of  the  kind !  Our 
men  advanced  on  various  spots,  and  drove  the  Confederates 
back.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  sharp  fighting,  chiefly  in- 
fantry, although  artillery  had  its  share.  We  had  no  chance 
whatsoever;  we  started  up  the  great  road  at  the  South  Moun- 
tain, but  the  artillery  raked  the  road,  and  so  we  were  ordered  off 
without  injury  to  the  regiment,  and  we  supported  a  gun  or 
two  which  was  firing  at  the  enemy.  They  passed,  we  driving 
the  enemy  clean  out  of  the  Mountain,  and  we  were  taken  over 
to  the  right  of  our  line,  where  we  passed  the  night  picketing 
and  watching  the  roads.  There  we  got  a  little  meal  from  a 
stable,  and  I  made  some  cakes  and  baked  them  on  hot  stones. 

Presently  we  were  ordered  to  move  up,  and  rode  up  the 
road  and  over  the  South  Mountain  and  down  the  other  side, 
seeing  some  remnants  of  the  army.  Just  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  we  saw  signs  of  a  skirmish  with  some  Confederate 
cavalry,  but  it  did  not  amount  to  anything. 

We  went  on  about  on  the  lead,  and  presently  came  to  a  ridge 
where,  looking  across,  we  saw  the  Confederate  army  posted. 
Our  men  were  pouring  up  the  various  roads  and  coming  across 
the  fields  in  good  order,  and  by  night  a  large  number  of  them 
had  arrived.  General  McClellan  came  up  at  about  six  o'clock 
and  was  received  with  loud  cheers  by  the  men  all  along  the 
road.  We  were  encamped  a  little  way  back  in  the  position 
which  we  had  taken,  and  were  wondering  what  we  should  do 
for  supper.  We  had  not  had  a  regular  meal  for  a  week  or  ten 
days.  The  next  morning  the  colonel  ordered  me  to  go  and  find 
two  pigs,  which  I  did.  I  took  with  me  two  men,  who  shot  the 
pigs,  whereupon  I  was  called  to  order  by  a  little  captain,  who 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  171 

rose  up  in  the  orchard  where  the  pigs  had  been  feeding.  He 
forebade  my  taking  the  pigs,  but  when  he  saw  that  I  outranked 
him,  he  said  no  more.  We  took  the  pigs  back  to  camp,  and 
they  were  dressed,  and  the  men  ate  them.  As  they  had  no  salt 
and  almost  no  bread,  it  made  them  very  sick. 

The  South  Mountain  fight  had  been  Sunday;  we  had  come 
up  Monday,  September  15,  and  this  was  Tuesday  of  which  I 
speak.  At  about  eight  o'clock  William  Sedgwick  came  to  see 
us  and  took  Pelham  Curtis  and  me  to  his  camp  for  breakfast, 
and  gave  us  some  bread  and  butter,  and  I  remember  crying,  I 
was  so  hungry. 

The  army  was  all  up  and  in  line,  and  in  the  afternoon  there 
was  a  very  sharp  fight  on  our  right,  General  Hooker  getting  in 
chiefly  and  being  rather  beaten  back.  Meanwhile  General 
Burnside  had  come  on  our  left.  The  next  morning  the  fight 
began  in  earnest,  and  we  had  the  battle  of  Antietam.  We  were 
taken  to  the  rear  to  get  us  out  of  the  way,  and  presently 
brought  up  at  the  middle  point  of  our  line  on  the  Chesapeake 
Road,  with  batteries  before  us  and  batteries  behind  us,  and 
the  artillery  fire  was  very  heavy.  A  few  shot  came  down 
among  us,  but  did  no  harm.  We  stayed  there  two  or  three 
hours,  until  at  last  we  were  withdrawn  and  put  behind  the 
bank  of  Antietam  Creek,  where  we  could  not  be  hurt,  and  thus 
our  chance  was  lost.1  We  might  have  been  taken  up  the  main 
road  and  done  a  good  deal  of  mischief.  The  battle  went  on, 
and  night  came,  and  nobody  knew  just  what  the  result  had 
been.  We  know  now  that,  if  Burnside  had  moved  promptly,  as 
he  was  ordered  to,  at  8  o'clock,  we  should  have  surrounded 
Lee's  army  and  taken  the  whole  army  prisoners,  for  we  could 
have  easily  shut  it  off  from  Shepard's  Ford,  over  which  fresh 
troops  came  and  strengthened  it. 

The  next  day  we  expected  to  renew  the  fight,  and  on  moving 
forward  found  that  Lee's  army  had  gone  across  the  river  in  the 
night.    I  picked  up  an  old  letter  or  two,  which  I  have  some- 

1  It  was  here  that  C.  F.  Adams  "dropped  quietly  asleep."  Autobiography,  p.  153. 


172  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

where,  and  which  show  the  spirit  of  the  Confederate  troops. 
It  was  very  good  indeed. 

Presently  a  part  of  the  army  was  pushed  forward  toward 
the  river,  and  a  few  troops  thrown  across  the  river;  but  the 
enemy  came  down,  and  our  troops  were  withdrawn.  We  went 
to  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  were  just  going  in  when  we  were 
pushed  back.  There  was  really  nothing  to  be  accomplished. 
Then  we  went  into  camp,  and  the  army  began  to  get  itself  in 
order  again.  In  our  regiment  we  took  occasion  to  get  clean 
clothes  by  washing  those  we  had.  I  had  seen  no  baggage  since 
Alexandria,  and  I  had  not  changed  my  underclothes  for  six 
weeks;  so  I  took  everything  off,  except  my  trousers  and  over- 
coat, it  being  hot  weather,  and  gave  them  to  my  striker  to  be 
washed.  Greely  Curtis  and  I,  with  one  or  two  others,  took  a 
bath  in  one  of  the  small  streams,  and  then,  in  this  costume,  we 
rode  over  to  see  Bill  Sedgwick,  who  had  been  wounded,  and 
who  was  lying  in  a  house  to  the  rear  two  or  three  miles.  We 
found  him  very  contented  and  jolly,  and  we  knew,  as  he  did, 
that  he  must  die  in  twenty-four  or  forty-eight  hours.  He  was 
absolutely  paralyzed  below  the  waist,  and  there  was  no  help 
for  him.  We  had  half  an  hour  with  him,  and  then  went  back  to 
the  regiment. 

A  letter  to  his  father  from  Sharpsburg  (Antietam)  on 
September  18  is  concise  enough:  — 

We  had  a  great  fight  yesterday  and  rather  beat  them,  tho' 
nothing  is  yet  decided.  Old  Sumner  got  his  hat  shot  off  and 
put  things  right  thro'  on  the  right  wing.  He  is  a  buster.  Gen'l 
Sedgwick  hit  in  two  places,  not  dangerously.  Wilder  Dwight 
mortally  wounded;  Bill  —  probably  killed;  Palfrey  shot  thro' 
the  chest;  Paul  Revere  slightly  wounded;  Hooker,  Mansfield, 
Richardson  and  others  high  in  rank  more  or  less  wounded. 
Wendell  Holmes  slightly  hurt;  Hallowell  lost  an  arm.1  Charlie 

1  Hallowell  did  not  lose  an  arm,  though  he  was  severely  wounded. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  173 

all  right,  but  a  horse  shot  under  him.  I  see  Charlie  every  day 
now.  .  .  . 

I  congratulate  you  on  your  birthday,  daddy. 

We  are  getting  reinforcements  and  shall  fight  again.  The 
whole  rebel  army  is  here  in  front  of  us.  I  think  we'll  thrash 
them  here  for  good  and  all. 

A  week  later  he  summarizes  Antietam  in  two  sentences: 
"  It  came  very  near  being  a  tremendous  victory  for  us  and  also 
equally  near  being  a  defeat.  If  Burnside  had  done  at  all  what 
was  expected  of  him,  we  should  have  cut  off  their  retreat 
utterly."1 

Yet  the  year  closed  gloomily.  The  regiment  went  into  camp 
at  Acquia  Creek  and  then  at  Falmouth  near  Fredericksburg. 
The  internal  troubles  increased.  Colonel  Williams  resigned  to 
enter  the  Adjutant-General's  office  at  Washington,  where  he 
did  excellent  service,  and  rose  to  be  Adjutant-General  himself. 
He  was  succeeded  by  Colonel  Sargent.  "We  learned  nothing," 
says  C.  F.  Adams,  "unless  it  were  to  carry  insubordination  to 
a  fine  art.  .  .  .  Regimental  quarrels  were  incessant."  Frank 
Higginson  was  eager  to  enter  the  service,  and  Jim  was  landing 
from  his  long  sojourn  in  Germany;  but  Henry,  because  of  the 
regimental  quarrels,  did  not  wish  either  of  his  brothers  in  the 
First  Cavalry.  In  some  moods  indeed,  in  that  dispiriting 
autumn,  Henry  wished  that  Jim  would  keep  out  of  the  army 
altogether,  and  help  in  some  other  way.  But  Jim  wanted  to 
fight,  as  the  following  letter  shows. 

Boston,  Oct.  9,  1862. 
Dear  Henry,  — 

We  have  been  hoping  for  some  days  to  hear  from  you  again 
—  and  I  especially,  because  I  thought  you  might  give  me  some 

1  "To  overcome  Lee  in  any  way  and  on  any  terms  was  matter  for  congratula- 
tion. .  .  .  The  state  of  feeling  at  the  North  had  changed  from  despondency  before 
South  Mountain  to  positive  buoyancy  after  Antietam."  J.  F.  Rhodes,  History  of 
the  Civil  War  (N.Y.,  1917),  p.  170. 


174  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

advice  as  to  my  future  occupation.  Father  advises  strongly 
that  I  go  into  the  Sanitary  Commission,  and  so  do  many  others 
also.  .  .  . 

The  tone  of  the  army,  according  to  latest  accounts,  is  not  so 
good  as  it  should  be,  in  my  opinion.  I  of  course  judge  by  what 
I  hear  and  may  be  wrong.  The  officers  and  men  appear  to  be 
tired  of  the  war  and  not  willing  to  carry  it  on  to  the  end.  If 
that  is  the  case,  it  would  be  better  if  all  who  felt  so  could  re- 
turn quietly  to  their  homes,  and  give  the  new  men  a  chance.  I 
join  with  those  who  prefer  an  utter  extermination  of  the  rebels 
to  stopping,  unless  of  course  the  rebels  yield  unconditionally. 
All  desire  for  peace  with  any  conditions  attached  seems  to  me 
short-sighted  and  cowardly,  the  real  coward's  policy. 

People  here  consider  the  whole  matter  far  too  lightly  in  my 
opinion;  in  fact  they  hardly  feel  the  war,  excepting  through 
the  death  of  a  relative  now  and  then.  I  can  scarcely  help  wish- 
ing that  we  may  all  be  made  sooner  or  later  to  feel  it  most 
keenly,  for  I  hold  the  war  with  its  scourges  to  be  the  saving  of 
this  country. 

I  hope  now  you  will  write  me  as  soon  as  possible  and  say 
straight  out  what  you  think  I  had  better  do  —  whether  you 
can  get  me  a  place  in  your  regiment,  etc.  I  wish  also  to  know 
what  the  objections  to  entering  as  private  are,  for  that  seems 
to  me  the  proper  thing  to  do. 

It  is  very  lonely  here,  so  few  fellows  are  at  home,  and  I  am 
longing  to  get  off  and  be  at  work.  .  .  . 

Yrs.  ever 

J-J.H. 

Brother  Jim  did  enter  the  Sanitary  Commission  for  a  few 
days,  and  got  enough  of  it.  Many  of  the  officers  in  the  First 
Cavalry  were  resigning  in  order  to  enter  the  Second  Massa- 
chusetts Cavalry,  which  was  now  being  organized  in  Boston. 
These  vacancies  gave  James  Higginson  his  chance.  He  soon 
got  a  second  lieutenancy  in  the  First  Regiment,  in  spite  of  his 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  FIRST  PHASE  175 

elder  brother's  forebodings,  and  proceeded  to  make  a  cheerful 
and  efficient  officer. 

Late  in  November  General  Buford  ordered  the  regiment  to 
the  front  again,  but  again  they  had  no  real  righting.  They 
bivouacked  in  the  woods  near  Fredericksburg  during  the 
disastrous  battle  of  December  13,  but  were  not  called  into 
action.  Pessimism  settled  in  with  winter  weather,  and  Major 
Higginson's  last  letter  of  the  year,  on  December  26,  is  black. 
"Stupidity  and  wickedness"  rule.  Emancipation  Proclama- 
tions are  "mere  waste  paper" ;  Senator  Sumner  and  Governor 
Andrew  are  deeply  at  fault. 

If  we  could  only  have  McClellan  and  Banks  in  place  of 
Halleck  and  Stanton,  and  Moses  Taylor  or  some  sagacious  and 
able  merchant  in  place  of  Chase,  and  another  in  place  of  Welles 
—  a  real  war  Cabinet  that  meant  to  finish  this  war  in  the 
shortest  possible  space  of  time,  and  that  would  let  all  other 
matters  go,  we  should  soon  be  at  peace  again. 

There  is  something  here,  of  course,  of  the  soldier's  im- 
memorial privilege  of  grumbling;  some  echo  of  the  mess-talk 
of  a  dissatisfied  regiment;  but  it  was  mainly  the  despairing 
mood  of  a  baffled  idealist,  mourning  in  secret  over  the  sacri- 
fice of  very  dear  friends,  and  feeling  that  his  own  best  efforts 
during  the  twenty  long  months  since  he  first  enlisted  had  been 
wasted.  "  If  we  had  cavalry  leaders  who  did  or  could  do  their 
work  one  half  as  well  as  many  a  captain,  we  should  be  of  very 
great  use."  The  medicine  Henry  Higginson  most  needed  at  the 
end  of  1862  was  a  ringing  cavalry  charge  at  the  head  of  his 
men.   Eighteen  sixty-three  gave  it  to  him. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   CIVIL  WAR:    SECOND   PHASE 

Year  that  trembled  and  reel'd  beneath  me ! 

Your  summer  wind  was  warm  enough,  yet  the  air  I  breathed  froze  me, 

A  thick  gloom  fell  through  the  sunshine  and  darken'd  me, 

Must  I  change  my  triumphant  songs?  said  I  to  myself, 

Must  I  indeed  learn  to  chant  the  cold  dirges  of  the  baffled? 

And  sullen  hymns  of  defeat? 

—  Walt  Whitman:  Drum-Taps. 

At  first  there  was  little  change.  On  January  n,  1863,  he 
writes:  — 

We  are  fiddling  around  the  country  as  usual,  this  day  after 
Stuart,  the  next  after  Hampton;  all  in  vain.  I  may  soon  tell 
you  of  a  brilliant  plan  which  would  have  eclipsed  any  of  the 
cavalry  movements  in  this  country.  I  was  on  court-martial 
when  Greely  told  me  a  bit  of  a  plan,  for  which  details  of  100 
picked  men  and  horses  from  six  or  eight  regiments  of  cavalry 
had  been  made.  He  had  been  taken  from  our  regiment.  I  im- 
mediately went  to  our  General  Averell  and  applied  for  leave  to 
accompany  them,  to  which  he  —  contrary  to  usual  rules  — 
consented.  I  returned  to  camp  and  got  ready.  ...  It  was  a 
risky  expedition,  but  a  buster.  All  went  swimmingly  and  we 
were  thirty  miles  from  camp,  December  31,  when  an  order 
from  Halleck,  came,  stopping  us;  oh,  such  a  pity!  Everybody 
was  in  such  spirits ;  a  splendid  command  of  cavalry ;  a  battery 
finely  officered,  and  furnished  with  fresh  horses  from  General 
Burnside's  own  wagons.  We  could  and  would  have  done  any- 
thing. Such  checks  destroy  the  enthusiasm  of  any  army. 

On  January  3:  "Nothing  new  except  the  changes  of  gen- 
erals.   We  are  getting  on   to  perdition.  ...  If  the  people 


H.    L.    HIGG1NSON,    MAJOR   OF   CAVALRY,    U.S.    ARMY    (1863) 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  177 

at  home  do  not  take  the  mismanagement  of  this  war  and 
this  government  to  heart,  we  shall  have  a  disgraceful  peace 
before  summer." 

But  the  next  day  his  spirits  seem  to  have  risen,  for  he  writes 
his  sister  that  he  is  thinking  of  becoming  a  professional  soldier 
of  fortune:  "...  I  mean  to  go  to  Mexico  and  fight  the 
French  after  this  war  is  done.  It  might  be  a  pleasant  life,  and 
it  would  certainly  be  good  fun  to  cut  off  those  little  red-legged 
sinners,  who  have  been  swelling  about  their  fighting  and  vic- 
tory. After  that  I  shall  return  and  enter  some  European  ser- 
vice, perhaps  that  of  'La  Belle  France,'  or  of  Austria.  .  .  ." 

Probably  this  was  only  a  "Higgism,"  intended  for  Molly's 
amusement,  but  at  any  rate  it  indicates  a  more  cheerful 
mood.  Before  the  end  of  the  month  the  regimental  troubles 
culminated  in  a  "very  lively  storm"  which  "  purified  the  air."  ! 
Higginson,  Curtis,  and  Adams  stood  together  in  this  matter, 
and  Higginson's  outspoken  courage  won  Adams's  lifelong 
gratitude.  Discipline  was  restored,  and  the  Major's  spirits 
rose.  By  February  he  is  begging  his  father  to  "tell  Frank  to 
seek  a  commission  with  Bob  Shaw  in  his  black  regiment." 
This  is  his  first  reference  to  the  famous  Massachusetts  Fifty- 
Fourth. 

Major  Higginson  was  now  responsible  for  a  picket  line 
about  ten  miles  in  length,  lying  some  eighty  miles  from  the 
regiment's  winter  camp  at  Falmouth.  He  rode  along  the  whole 
line  daily,  and  often  at  night.  But  there  were  few  alarms  — 
the  only  real  attack,  which  was  easily  repulsed,  happening  to 
come  during  the  few  days  when  Higginson  had  returned  to 
Boston  on  a  furlough.  He  had  a  happy  time  at  Chauncy 
Street.2  He  had  a  gay  evening  in  Washington  on  his  way  back 
to  Virginia,  and  describes  it  in  this  letter  to  Molly :  — 

1  See  A  Cycle  of  Adams  Letters  (Boston,  1920),  vol.  1,  pp.  248,  249. 

2  Mrs.  Higginson  writes  of  this  furlough:  "I  remember  especially  a  party  at 
Papanti's,  a  dinner  at  Mrs.  Putnam's  (mother  of  Lieutenant  Putnam,  who  was 
killed  at  Ball's  Bluff),  and  a  party  at  Dr.  Hooper's,  where  all  sadness  and  anxiety 
was  for  the  moment  kept  in  the  background." 

13 


178  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

In  Washington  I  saw  Cousin  Anna  and  Annie,  and  dined  at 
the  Hoopers',  seeing  the  three  younger  ladies  as  well  as  Mrs. 
Hooper  and  Mary  Motley  (who  is  very  pleasant  and  gentle), 
Professors  Agassiz  and  Bache,  Mr.  Boutwell  of  our  state,  and 
Secretary  Chase.   About  this  last  gentleman  I  have  felt  much 
curiosity  —  and  quite  like  him.    He  is  bright-minded,  and  is 
a  gentleman  for  the  most  part.    He  and  Prof.  A.  were  funny. 
Mr.  Chase  would  call  me  colonel,  so  I,  in  return,  admired  him. 
In  the  evening  I  went  to  his  reception,  and  saw  his  daughter, 
the  prettiest  woman  in  Washington,  I  hear  —  very  pretty  too 
—  beautiful  eyes  and  eyelashes,  complexion,  expression,  grace- 
ful, good  manners,  good  mouth  —  altogether  quite  charming. 
Nelly  Hooper  lent  me  a  pair  of  gloves,  which  I  shall  keep  as  a 
memento  of  my  pleasant  dinner  and  evening  and  of  my  beau- 
tiful hand.   I  put  the  gloves  on,  that  is  I  got  two  fingers  inside 
one  of  them.   Meantime  I  owe  her  a  pair  of  gloves,  as  I  asked 
for  these.    But  I  had  a  very  nice  talk  with  Nelly  and  Annie 
Hooper.  I  found  Molly  Motley  had  my  cross-eyed  photograph. 
I  expect  the  last  one  will  prove  a  success  —  with  my  pretty  cap 
and  eyes  turned  to  Heaven.  Write  me  how  it  is.   I  found  that 
Thayer  (life  of  Beethoven)  was  in  Washington,  and  Jim  has 
written  to  bring  him  hither.  .  .  . 

He  came  back  full  of  energy.  "Not  having  quite  enough  to 
do,  I  asked  the  general  commanding  our  division  if  I  might 
help  to  drill  a  New  York  regiment  [the  Fourth  New  York  Cav- 
alry] which  was  under  the  command  of  Colonel  Cesnola,  and 
which  had  really  no  manners  or  customs." 

One  March  day,  on  picket  duty,  he  penciled  in  a  beautiful 
clear  hand  the  following  letter  to  his  old  friend  A.  W.  Thayer, 
whom  he  had  just  missed  in  Washington.  Thayer  had  been 
Mr.  Motley's  secretary  in  Vienna,  and  served  for  thirty  years 
as  United  States  Consul  at  Trieste.  It  is  a  most  significant 
letter,  and  shows  that  the  black  and  bitter  mood  had  passed.1 

1  This  letter  has  kindly  been  placed  at  my  disposal  by  Mrs.  Jabez  Fox. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  179 

On  Picket  —  March  15,  1863. 
Dear  Thayer  :  — 

When  you  were  in  Washington,  I  passed  thro',  and  was  as- 
tonished to  hear  at  the  Sanitary  rooms  of  "Thayer,"  "Vienna 
Thayer,"  the  "Great  Thayer."  I  tried  twice  in  my  short  stay 
of  a  few  hours  to  see  you  —  in  vain.  If  you  could  have  come 
here,  you  should  have  seen  something  of  our  army,  and  should 
have  delighted  our  eyes  with  your  presence  and  our  ears  with 
tales  of  your  own  doings,  of  friends  in  Europe  and  of  music  in 
all  its  forms.  But  you  must  hurry  back  to  Vienna,  my  second 
and  well-beloved  home.  Well,  old  fellow,  go  your  own  way 
and  work  out  your  own  salvation.  I  am  trying  to  work  out 
mine,  so  is  Jim,  and  so  is  many  a  good,  brave  man.  The  many 
little  salvations  will  go  to  make  that  of  our  country  and  of  the 
human  race.  Tell  me  there  is  no  American  people,  is  no  nation- 
ality, is  no  distinct  and  strong  love  of  country!  It  is  a  lie,  and 
those  who  have  said  it  to  me  in  Europe  simply  were  ignorant ! 
We  've  been  to  school  for  two  years  all  the  time,  and  have  been 
learning  a  lesson  —  wait  and  see  if  we  don't  know  it  and  use 
it  pretty  soon.  We'll  beat  these  men,  fighting  for  slavery  and 
for  wickedness,  out  of  house  and  home,  beat  them  to  death, 
this  summer  too.  I  do  not  say  this  to  boast,  but  as  my  belief 
and  my  intention,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  We  are  right,  and 
are  trying  hard ;  we  have  at  last  real  soldiers,  not  recruits,  in 
the  field,  and  we  shall  reap  our  harvest.  Only  people  at  home 
must  support  us,  and  must  cheer  us  on,  as  they  now  again, 
after  their  apathy,  are  doing.  I  cannot,  for  the  life  of  me,  see 
any  other  possible  way  for  us  than  to  whip  them :  we  have  no 
ground  on  which  to  make  peace  —  and  cannot  have  any,  until 
we  or  they  have  given  in  —  beaten.  Peace  cannot  last  if  made 
now.  Besides,  this  is  all  we  can  do  for  mankind.  I,  for  one,  have 
felt  merely  delight  from  the  beginning  of  the  war,  that  the  day 
had  come,  which  was  to  make  me  a  soldier  fighting  for  freedom 
for  man,  for  the  right  and  the  good,  for  God.  My  whole  re- 
ligion (that  is  my  whole  belief  and  hope  in  everything,  in  life , 


1 80  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

in  man,  in  woman,  in  music,  in  good,  in  the  beautiful,  in  the 
real  truth)  rests  on  the  questions  now  really  before  us.  It  is 
enough  to  keep  up  one's  pluck,  is  n't  it,  old  fellow? 

And  I  'm  still  young  enough  to  go  much  farther  and  fare 
much  worse  than  I  have,  for  one  warm  look  and  one  kind  word 
from  a  maiden.  Does  one  ever  lose  the  real  love  and  enthu- 
siasm for  women  who  are  good  and  pure  and  high-minded?  I 
do  not  think  it:  at  least  the  decay  has  not  yet  begun  with  me. 
The  little  week  at  home  brightened  and  cheered  me  very  much: 
and  it  was  a  real  delight  to  find  that  one's  place  was  kept  and 
a  warm  welcome  ready  for  the  wanderer,  for  the  soldier.  And 
so  it  goes :  all  in  a  lifetime.  Thank  God  that  we  were  born  in 
these  days! 

When  you  go  back  to  dear  old  Vienna,  Thayer,  give  my  best 
love  to  my  friends,  one  and  all,  to  Epstein,  Rufinatscha,  Konig, 
Rover,  August  and  Eugene  Miller,  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lippitt 
and  all  the  Miller  family  and  to  any  more  who  may  remember 
me.  Kindest  remembrances  also  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Motley  and 
their  whole  family ;  they  all  were  very  kind  to  me  in  past  years 
at  Dresden.  I  saw  Miss  Mary  Motley,  his  daughter,  in  Wash- 
ington a  few  days  ago:  she  is  a  charming  girl.  Perhaps  she 
might  like  to  send  by  you  to  Vienna.  I  've  not  written  to 
Vienna  for  a  long  time,  from  the  laziness  which  so  often  pre- 
vents writing.  It  does  not  matter,  for  I  shall  write  to  them 
now.  Can  you  find  time  to  write  me  a  few  words  before  leav- 
ing this  side?  My  father  is  at  No.  40  State  St.,  Lee,  Higginson 
and  Co.,  and  would  be  very  glad  to  see  you. 

Jim  sends  his  love  and  good  wishes. 

Would  it  not  be  jolly  to  wake  up  some  morning  in  Vienna, 
and  then  go  to  see  one's  old  friends  and  wind  up  with  a  big  con- 
cert? It  will  come  all  in  good  time,  if  my  bullet  does  not  come 
along;  and  if  it  does,  "  Nunc  dimittis"  will  not  be  so  unwelcome 
a  song.  My  love  again  to  you,  old  fellow,  and  to  all  in  Vienna 
or  in  other  places,  and  tell  them  that  I  often  and  often  think  of 
them  and  former  times  with  very  great  pleasure.    My  friends 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  181 

are  still  and  always  will  be  my  greatest  delight  in  life.  But 
chiefly  love  to  August  Miller,  Epstein,  and  Rufinatscha.  And 
so  good-bye,  for  we  are  saddling  up  to  go  off  this  moment. 

Yrs. 

H.  L.  H. 

This  letter  crossed  one  from  Thayer,  then  in  Boston. 
Thayer's  opinion  of  the  ''weak  old  President"  was  shared 
by  many  Bostonians. 

"I  am  to  sail  in  the  Saxonia  April  6  for  Hamburg,  and  shall 
carry  back  with  me  the  heartiest  contempt  for  Abe  Lincoln  and 
old  Halleck,  but  an  unbounded  admiration  for  the  spirits  of 
the  Northern  people.  I  tell  you  the  uprising  in  the  North  was 
the  grandest  thing  in  modern  history.  .  .  .  Last  night  I  was 
in  company  with  Gov.  Andrew  and  he  told  me  of  Hooker  — 
Fighting  Joe  —  the  man  of  men,  and  cheered  me  and  encour- 
aged me  mightily.  I  have  hopes  that  the  weak  old  president 
may  at  length  be  forced  to  find  out  who  his  true  friends  are, 
and  who  are  the  real  lovers  of  the  country,  and  seek  his  coun- 
sellors from  among  them." 

On  March  17  came  the  sharp  cavalry  fight  at  Kelly's  Ford. 
The  First  Massachusetts  was  not  in  this  action,  but  three  of 
its  officers,  performing  staff  duty,  were  wounded,  Lieutenant 
"Nat"  Bowditch  mortally.1 

"I  liked  the  boy  so  much,"  Higginson  wrote  to  Mrs.  Bow- 
ditch.  "His  handsome  face  and  pleasant  smile  will  stay  by  me 
forever.  He  was  in  our  tent  (that  of  Col.  Curtis  and  myself) 
very  frequently,  and  often  spent  an  evening  with  us,  smoking 
his  pipe.  Poor  Nat !  The  war  made  him  a  man  and  then  took 
him  away  so  quickly." 

Hooker  had  now  succeeded  Burnside  in  command  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac.    "The  sullen  gloom  of  the  camps  soon 

1  Greely  Curtis  gave  him  some  water,  which  he  first  offered  to  a  wounded  private. 
When  told  that  he  must  die,  he  said:  "Well,  I  hope  I  have  done  my  duty.  I  am 
content." 


182  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

disappeared,  and  a  new  spirit  of  pride  and  hope  began  to  per- 
vade the  ranks,"  wrote  Carl  Schurz. 

Hooker  was  a  very  blunt,  brave  officer  [says  Higginson  in 
his  Reminiscences] ;  insubordinate,  a  good  fighter,  and  not  very 
much  more.  He  had  been  in  the  regular  army  and  had  after- 
ward lived  in  California,  where  he  did  no  good.  It  was  when 
he  took  charge  of  the  army  that  things  began  to  get  brisker. 
We  had  a  tremendous  review  of  the  whole  army,  to  which 
President  Lincoln  came.  We  marched  by  him  in  review,  and 
it  was  the  only  time  that  I  ever  saw  him.  He  was  sitting  on  a 
horse,  with  General  Hooker  and  other  high  officers  by  his 
side.  He  looked  like  marble,  and  was  very  strange  in  his 
black  clothes  and  his  tall  black  hat. 

This  glimpse  of  Lincoln  was  on  the  fifth  of  April.  That 
month  was  brightened  for  the  Higginson  brothers  by  a  visit 
from  their  father  and  brother  George.  Henry's  war  Diary, 
which  unfortunately  covers  only  the  period  from  April  n  to 
May  4,  1863,  gives  some  vivid  pictures  of  the  daily  life  of  a  cav- 
alryman during  the  three  weeks  preceding  Chancellorsville. 

April  11.  G.  [Greely  Curtis]  and  I  were  summoned  by  the 
Col.,  who  laid  before  us  orders  to  clear  the  country  for  three 
miles  in  front  of  our  picket  line  of  hostile  inhabitants,  spies, 
guerrillas,  etc.,  etc.  A  dirty  job  and  one  likely  to  injure  us. 
.  .  .  Started  at  3  o'clk  p.m.  with  all  our  available  force,  I  hav- 
ing the  centre  of  the  line  to  clean  out.  A  beautiful  night.  I  had 
asked  to  leave  Jim  in  camp  to  welcome  father  and  George,  but 
was  refused  by  the  Col. 

April  12.  We  were  ordered  to  return  to  camp  at  4  o'clk  a.m. 
.  .  .  Father  and  George  arrived  at  noon.  .  .  .  They're  look- 
ing very  well.  Father  was  of  course  supplied  with  every  possi- 
ble thing,  —  soap,  beef-stock,  sponges,  tooth-brushes,  flannels, 
candy,  everything,  which  he  distributed  amidst  our  laughter. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  183 

Jolly  old  fellow  he  is!  The  same  man,  living  for  others  only. 
His  life  is  made  up  of  little  works,  and  on  these  he  expends 
time,  energy  and  ability  enough  for  great  works.  'Tis  a  pity  he 
has  no  child  worthy  of  him  and  none  one  tenth  so  good.  He 
has  been  bright  and  cheerful  as  possible  all  day,  asking  every 
now  and  then  for  Jim,  if  he  was  away  ten  minutes.  .  .  . 

April  13.  Were  waked  at  5  o'clk  and  hurried  to  be  quite 
ready  for  the  start,  which  was  ordered  notwithstanding  the 
rain  of  last  night.  The  Col.  is  in  command  of  the  brigade,  so 
G.  is  in  charge  of  the  regiment.  We  formed  about  7  o'clk 
before  the  camp,  our  own  force  amounting  to  about  425  men 
and  22  officers.  Had  some  talk  with  father  about  my  property, 
the  little  left,  and  he  made  some  excellent  suggestions  about 
its  disposition  in  case  of  death,  a  legacy  to  this  and  that  one. 
He  is  always  thinking  of  the  lone,  stray  people  on  this  earth, 
and  suggested  one  or  two  relations  to  me,  who  need  a  little 
care  —  also  one  or  two  of  my  friends.  .  .  .  We  left  father  and 
George  about  8|  o'clk  and  marched  to  Hartwood  church.  The 
sky  has  been  cloudy  and  the  weather  cold  all  day;  the  roads 
are  quite  fair  except  in  the  woods.  Halted  at  Hartwood  and 
thence  proceeded  to  Elk  Run,  camping  in  a  very  close  wood 
about  9  o'clk  p.m.  Very  bad  arriving  so  late.  My  nutmeg 
horse  is  lame  from  an  old  kick  on  the  off  fore-leg.  Got  to  sleep 
late  and  was  aroused  early.  By  the  way,  I  had  a  long  talk  with 
Dr.  Osborne,  who  is  a  good  fellow.  Expressed  my  decided 
wish  to  die  rather  than  to  lose  a  leg,  and  desired  the  two 
surgeons,  W.  and  Osborne,  to  note  it  in  case  of  accident. 
They  laughed,  talked  of  the  beauties  of  cork  legs,  of  crippling 
wounds,  etc.,  and  did  not  at  first  believe  me  in  earnest.  I 
promised  to  shoot  either  of  them  who  took  off  my  leg.  .  .  . 
Sacrifices!  A  young,  healthy,  unmarried  man  can  learn,  and 
profit  himself  very  much  by  service.  I  do  thank  God  that  I 
never  had  but  one  feeling  about  the  war,  pure  and  undivided 
from  the  first ;  it  is  no  credit  to  me,  but  resulted  simply  from 
my  thought,  wishes,  the  tone  of  my  mind.    I  always  did  long 


1 84  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

for  some  such  war,  and  it  came  in  the  nick  of  time  for  me. 
Circumstances  left  me  free  to  act,  and  indeed  drove  me  to  it. 

April  14.  Were  awakened  early  and  started  about  daylight 
for  Bealeton.  Our  brigade  to-day  had  the  lead,  and  after  some 
mistakes  at  last  hit  the  road.  A  most  beautiful  warm  day.  The 
spring  is  really  opening,  the  grass  is  getting  green  and  the 
buds  are  swelling.  We  found  the  mule  train  of  Gregg's  Divi- 
sion passing,  and  so  waited  a  little.  After  a  march  of  5  miles  or 
so,  we  reached  Bealeton  and  lay  on  the  ground  for  some  hours. 
Gregg  is  here  with  us  close  by  the  R.R.  Buford  is  below  at 
Kelly's  Ford,  where  he  will  make  a  feint.  Davis  with  Pleason- 
ton's  Division  is  farther  up  the  river.  Firing  at  Kelly's  Ford 
and  at  Rappahannock  Bridge.  Some  of  Gregg's  men  dis- 
mounted, crossed  the  R.R.  bridge  and  drove  the  enemy  away; 
they  then  came  back.  Sent  back  all  extras  and  also  my  Nut- 
meg to  camp  —  't  is  too  bad  to  lose  even  for  a  time  such  a 
horse ;  he  is  so  steady  and  strong  and  enduring.  My  little  colt, 
Peter  Smink,  is  full  of  fun.  We  encamped  in  a  wood  close  by. 
What  are  we  waiting  for?  .  .  . 

April  15.  We  marched  before  daybreak,  having  been  roused 
2§  o'clk.  Rained  very  hard,  and  the  roads  were  horrid.  Halted 
after  some  five  miles,  in  a  wood,  and  dismounted.  .  .  .  The 
crossing  was  given  up  on  account  of  the  storm  and  we  en- 
camped in  the  woods.  It  rained  all  day  and  all  night  tremen- 
dously, and  wet  everything  and  everybody.  'Tis  odd  how  well 
one  can  sleep  between  damp  blankets  in  wet  clothes  and  boots 
soaked  thro'  and  thro' ;  yet  we  did  very  well.  .  .  . 

April  16.  The  sun  came  out  and  so  we  dried  everything.  .  .  . 
It  has  been  a  beautiful  day  and  we  had  a  good  wash,  the 
first  since  leaving  camp.  These  little  amenities  of  life  must 
now  be  rare.  Puttered  over  our  little  shelter  tent  and  read  a 
great  deal,  an  article  in  the  April  "Atlantic,"  "A  Spasm  of 
Sense,"  written  by  a  woman,  I  think,  is  pretty  good,  and  in 
the  right  direction.  .  .  .  Newhall  the  other  day  expressed  the 
greatest  confidence  in  Greely.   "The  best  in  the  division,"  he 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  185 

said,  and  I  believe  so,  too.  Averell  and  Stoneman  and  Duffie 
have  all  excellent  reputations  and  have  claim  to  them  in  my 
belief,  tho'  I  Ve  never  seen  them  do  anything  yet.  But  no  one 
in  the  service  here  has  the  marked  ability  for  cavalry  work 
that  G.  has.  Such  is  my  opinion,  and  we  shall  see  if  others 
are  not  of  the  same  mind  before  June  1st.  The  river  and 
brooks  are  very  high  and  we  are  short  of  forage  —  besides 
which,  it  is  going  to  rain  again.  Had  a  pleasant  chat  with 
Charles  A.  [Adams]  about  Stephen  and  Dwight. 

April  17.  Cloudy  still.  .  .  .  Jim  and  Greely  were  discussing 
Thackeray  this  morning;  neither  of  them  likes  him,  and  think 
little  good  comes  of  his  writings.  They're  mistaken.  Thack- 
eray does  certainly  present  people  to  our  gaze  as  they  are; 
then  comes  the  question,  "Cannot  we  better  them?"  for 
"them"  is  nobody  but  ourselves.  We  are  very  short  of  forage 
and  there  is  no  prospect  of  any;  streams  are  unfordable,  etc. 
.  .  .  [H.  P.]  Bowditch  brought  us  two  beautiful  little  flowers 
this  morning. 

April  18.  Pleasant  day.  Broke  camp  and  moved  to  Beale- 
ton  Station  about  noon.  Detailed  for  picket  to  guard  the  river 
bank  from  Rappahannock  Bridge  to  Lee's  Ford  at  12  o'clk  M., 
a  distance  of  6  miles.   Nothing  worthy  of  note.  .  .  . 

April  19.  Rode  to  the  right  of  the  lines  and  got  a  splendid 
view  from  above  Lee's  Ford  across  the  country  to  the  moun- 
tains. A  little  more  firing,  but  no  signs  of  the  enemy  until  12 
o'clk,  when  some  200  cavalry  (rebel)  were  seen  at  a  distance 
over  Hedgeman's  River.  .  .  .  Made  a  sketch  of  the  picket 
line.  Relieved  at  6  o'clk  p.m.  and  returned  thro'  the  mud  to 
Bealeton  Station,  where  I  found  the  preparations  for  a  six- 
days'  jaunt  making. 

April  20.  Cloudy,  a  little  rain,  wind  N.  East.  Started  about 
11  o'clk  for  Sulphur  Springs.  Rained  very  hard  for  seven  or 
eight  hours,  roads  dreadful.  Beautiful  country,  more  espe- 
cially near  the  Springs,  but  no  cultivation  at  all  this  year. 
Davis's  column  in  advance,  next  ours,  then  Gregg's,  Buford's 


186  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

last.  Encamped  about  5  o'clk  in  a  chestnut  and  oak  wood. 
Mac,  C.'s  [C.  F.  Adams's]  dog,  caught  and  slew  a  pig.1  .   .  . 

April  21.  Cloudy,  a  little  rain,  still  N.E.  Changed  our  loca- 
tion to  a  nice  little  grove,  had  a  bath  and  read  a  pamphlet  by 
Stille  —  very  good.  Nothing  done  all  day  —  waiting  for  the 
river  to  fall,  I  fancy.  .  .  .  The  plans  of  the  campaign  are  kept 
a  secret.  .  .  . 

April  22.  Pleasant  day,  wind  westerly.  Bowditch's  and 
Fillebrown's  parties  returned  from  picket.  Discussion  of 
campaigns  here  and  in  Europe.  .  .  .  Our  real  strength  lies  in 
moving  quickly  and  cutting  lines  of  communication,  as  well 
as  harassing  the  enemy  in  falling  back.  In  this  we  can  do 
much,  when  Lee  retreats  on  Richmond.  This  next  four  to  eight 
weeks  will  settle  the  campaign.  .  .  . 

April  23.  Hard  rain,  N.  Easterly  still,  the  little  brook  at 
our  feet  boiling  with  water  and  everything  afloat.  Read,  and 
wrote  to  John  and  to  Mary. 

April  24.  Raining  hard  and  blowing  well.  Had  our  shelter 
tent  logged  in.  Rumors  of  a  mail.  This  lying  still  is  horrid. 
Read  and  wrote  and  washed.  It  would  be  a  relief  to  get  an- 
swers to  some  of  my  letters  before  starting,  tho'  waiting  for 
something  seems  to  be  the  normal  state  of  men.  Browning's 
"Men  and  Women"  seems  to  please  Greely,  too;  no  wonder. 

April  25.  Clear  and  bright.  Wind  N.W.  Read  and  read, 
and  dreamed  away  as  usual.  Had  a  ride  on  Peter,  who  was 
full  of  mischief  and  desirous  of  running  and  jumping.  Still 
no  mail.   ... 

April  26.    Clear  and  cold.   Wrote  to  Charley  and  to  N . 

Found  a  quantity  of  anemones  in  the  woods.  .  .  .  Lt.  Col. 
Taylor  of  Stoneman's  staff  came  to  inquire  into  our  wants, 
etc.  .  .  .  Taylor  said  that  "Charley  L.  was  the  most  perfect 
born  soldier  whom  he  had  ever  seen."  .  .  . 

April  27.   Read  and  wrote  a  little.   Pleasant  day.  .  .  . 

1  "  Mac"  was  an  English  bull-dog  "  with  a  very  open  countenance,"  and  a  great 
favorite  in  the  regiment. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  187 

April  28.  .  .  .  Were  ordered  to  move  about  9  o'clk  p.m., 
which  we  did  —  rode  till  3  o'clk  next  morning  thro'  mud  and 
water.  The  country  is  very  wet.  Camped  in  the  woods  near 
Bealeton  and  slept. 

April  29.  Got  up  at  5  a.m.  and  started  about  7  o'clk. 
Gieason  examined  Rappahannock  Ford  and  thought  it  too 
deep  for  use.  Marched  to  Kelly's  Ford  slowly,  forded  there, 
and  grazed  our  horses  on  beautiful  grass  for  several  hours. 
Three  corps  of  infantry  had  crossed,  5th,  nth  and  12th,  and 
had  gone  on.  Heard  also  that  Hooker  had  crossed  below 
Fredericksburg.  .  .  .  Crossing  the  river  was  very  pretty; 
the  water  came  half  way  up  the  horses'  withers.  Three  col- 
umns were  put  across  together  at  one  time,  one  swimming,  one 
fording,  and  one  on  the  pontoon.  .  .  .  We  went  on  a  mile  or 
two  thro'  the  woods,  passed  the  scene  of  the  Kellysville  fight, 
a  beautiful  field.  Just  as  we  got  there  firing  began,  first  car- 
bines, then  a  few  shells.  We  formed,  and  got  thro'  another 
belt  of  woods,  then  formed  line  on  a  huge  field,  where  also  the 
former  fight  took  place.  It  was  just  dark,  and  in  ten  minutes 
we  returned  to  the  edge  of  the  woods,  dismounted,  and  kept 
the  squadrons  formed  all  night.  We  made  very  small  fires 
indeed,  fed  horses,  and  slept  thro'  a  hard  rain  all  night.  .  .  . 

April  30.  Got  up  very  early,  fed  and  breakfasted  as  we 
could,  which  was  very  little.  It  was  a  fast  day  and  we  fasted. 
One  eats  little  on  a  trip  of  this  kind.  Started  behind  the  bat- 
tery and  stayed  there.  A  column  in  the  road  and  one  each  side 
in  the  fields  were  moved  all  day.  Sometimes  by  fours,  some- 
times by  squadrons.  A  very  beautiful  country  indeed,  this 
Culpeper  country;  the  grass  is  wonderfully  green,  the  slopes 
from  hill  to  valley  are  beautiful.  Saw  some  cattle  and  some 
horses,  but  very  few.  The  houses  are  quite  fine  and  very 
stately.  .  .  .  Got  to  Culpeper  Court  House  about  noon. 
.  .  .  Heard  that  Stuart  had  passed  thro'  two  hours  before 
us,  with  about  four  thousand  men  and  artillery.  They  are 
marching  all  night.  .  .  .  Stopped  several  hours  for  the  mule 


188  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

train,  and  then  marched  on  to  Cedar  Mt.,  where  we  examined 
the  field  carefully.  It  is  a  splendid  position  to  defend.  The 
bones  are  lying  over  the  field  now.  Had  a  description  of  the 
battle  from  Major  Farrington,  R.  I.  Cav.,  who  was  there  from 
the  beginning.  .  .  .  The  mail  party  came  up.  Dr.  Warner 
sorted  the  mail  in  the  ambulance,  and  we  read  our  letters  on 

horseback.    Got  letters  from   Mary,   Laura,   N ,   father, 

Col.  Williams,  Clark,  Pat  Jackson,  Bob  Shaw,  Mr.  Austin. 
.  .  .  Bob's  letter  was  funny.  .  .  .  Marched  around  the  moun- 
tain and  went  over  very  heavy  roads  some  eight  miles  towards 
Somerville  Ford.  Slept  in  a  swamp,  which  was  full  of  water. 
.  .   .  Jim  went  on  picket. 

May  i.  .  .  .  Fed  and  started  about  8  o'clk.  Marched  a 
mile  thro'  fearful  mud  and  halted  in  a  field.  Genl.  Averell  and 
Col.  Davis  were  nearly  taken  while  reconnoitering  this  morn- 
ing. Jim  led  his  men  to  a  charge  and  took  three  prisoners. 
The  enemy  ran  very  fast.  Gleason  had  a  fight  with  two  men, 
shot  one  and  beat  him  badly.  Both  were  unhorsed,  and  a 
second  rebel  came.  Gleason  drove  him  away.  We  fired  at  the 
enemy  and  they  at  us  all  day.  Lieut.  Phillips  was  shot  in  the 
neck,  probably  will  die.  We  did  nothing  all  day  and  encamped 
after  a  blind  march  thro'  the  woods  in  the  swamp  again. 

May  2.  Aroused  early  and  ordered  to  march  in  f  of  an  hour. 
Marched  and  waited  and  marched  thro'  a  beautiful  country  to 
Stevensburg,  and  then  to  Ely's  Ford.  Heard  bad  and  good 
reports  of  a  big  battle ;  had  a  long  discussion  with  G.  and  con- 
cluded it  to  be  a  drawn  battle.  Encamped  about  8  o'clk. 
From  4  to  8  we  heard  very  heavy  firing  indeed  toward  Chan- 
cellorsville,  where  the  forces  are.  Aroused  about  12  o'clk  by  a 
volley  fired  into  the  2d  brigade  by  someone  unknown.  Turned 
out  all  hands.  I  went  with  the  carbineers  into  a  wood  on  foot 
to  hold  it.  Great  confusion  in  the  arrangement  of  our  brigade. 
Col.  S.  knew  nothing  of  his  regiment  or  of  the  ground.  Genl. 
A.  decided  that  it  was  a  mistake  of  our  own  infantry.  Left  a 
small  picket  on  foot,  and  got  to  sleep  about  I  \  o'clk  in  a  wood. 

May  3.    Wakened  with  orders  for  moving.    Sent  out  with 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  189 

our  whole  regiment  to  picket  the  road  from  Culpeper,  etc., 
and  returned  about  3  o'clk.  Nothing  to  be  seen.  Heard  vari- 
ous reports  of  the  battle,  but  nothing  authentic.  Quin  and 
several  of  our  men  rode  to  our  lines  as  escort  and  took  some 
prisoners.  Learned  that  the  volley  of  the  night  before  was 
fired  ;by  the  rebels.  .  .  .  Crossed  with  our  brigade  alone  at 
Ely's  Ford,  and  rode  to  our  fortification,  about  two  miles. 
Went  inside  some  two  or  three  miles  and  encamped  in  a  field 
near  the  United  States  Ford.  Saw  the  wounded  —  which  is 
horrid.  Everything  in  excellent  order — 1st,  3rd,  5th,  nth 
and  1 2th  corps  are  here.  .  .  .  We  are  well  entrenched.  We 
had  very  heavy  fighting  this  morning,  but  little  this  afternoon 
here.  The  heights  of  Fredericksburg  were  taken  by  Sedgwick 
to-day.  Genl.  Berry  was  killed  on  our  right.  Slept  here  — 
without  a  picket  or  a  guard. 

May  4.  Wakened  by  shelling  from  the  rebels.  Learned  that 
the  nth  and  12th  Corps  were  sent  out  to  attack  Jackson's 
train —  nth  thought  the  12th  was  taken  and  so  ran  away; 
12th  came  back,  found  Jackson's  men  in  their  (12th)  entrench- 
ments, and  cleaned  them  right  out.  nth  marched  to  the  front 
at  Howard's  request.  12th  chaffed  them  badly.  Sedgwick 
took  the  F.  heights  by  eight  charges,  each  time  carrying  a 
battery.  Birney  said  to  be  in  the  enemy's  rear.  Stoneman  has 
cut  the  R.R.  at  the  Pamunkey.  Averell  relieved  of  his  com- 
mand and  ordered  to  Washington  —  we  don't  know  the  reason. 

Here  the  Diary  ends,  on  the  last  day  of  the  three  days' 
battle  of  Chancellorsville.  The  grandiloquent  Hooker  had 
measured  himself  against  Lee  and  Jackson,  and  there  was 
none  to  deliver  him  from  the  paw  of  the  lion  and  the  bear. 
Hooker  had  lost  his  nerve,  or,  as  he  himself  said  later : ' '  Double- 
day,  I  was  not  hurt  by  a  shell,  and  I  was  not  drunk.  For  once 
I  lost  confidence  in  Hooker,  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  it."1  At 
midnight  on  May  4  he  decided  to  recross  the  Rappahannock. 
How  little  an  intelligent  officer,  in  forced  inactivity  although 

1  Quoted  in  Gamaliel  Bradford's  Union  Portraits,  p.  64. 


190  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

within  sight  and  sound  of  a  great  battle,  may  know  of  what  is 

really  happening,  may  be  seen  in  Major  Higginson's  hasty 

note  to  his  father:  — 

Near  U.S.  Ford,  May  4,  1863. 

Dearest  Father  :  — 

...  So  far  as  I  can  see  or  hear,  we  are  well  off  (the  army,  I 
mean),  have  entrenched  ourselves  here,  have  taken  Fredericks- 
burg Heights,  carrying  eight  batteries  in  succession,  have  cut 
the  railroad  near  the  Pamunkey  River,  have  Stoneman  with 
some  4000  or  5000  cavalry  in  the  rear  of  the  enemy,  have  killed, 
etc.,  a  great  many  rebels.  There  has  been  savage  fighting;  the 
2d  Regiment  has  lost  170  men  out  of  some  400  or  less,  I  think. 
The  nth  Corps  (Sigel's  famous  men)  ran  away  yesterday 
and  has  been  marched  to  the  front  to-day  at  Howard's  re- 
quest, he  being  the  commander.  The  12th  Corps  (Banks's 
old  men)  cleaned  Jackson's  men  out  of  our  entrenchments 
wherein  they  had  got  while  the  nth  Corps  ran  away. 

We  are  all  right,  so  good-bye,  and  love  to  all.  H. 

Even  three  days  later,  when  the  regiment  was  back  in  its  old 
camp  at  Falmouth,  he  could  write:  "Still  I  regard  Hooker's 
movement  a  success;  it  was  brilliant  and  has  inflicted  a  terrible 
loss  on  the  enemy.  .  .  .  Whip  Lee's  army  we  can  and  will.  .  .  . 
We  are  expecting  orders  to  move  every  moment.  I  heard  last 
night  that  the  Infantry  was  again  under  marching  orders  to 
move  either  last  night  or  this  morning  in  pursuit  of  Lee's 
army."  The  rumor  was  true  enough,  but  the  "pursuit"  was 
northward,  following  Lee's  triumphant  invasion  of  Pennsyl- 
vania! And  Lincoln,  hearing  that  Hooker  had  recrossed  the 
Rappahannock,  was  crying:  "My  God!  My  God!  what  will 
the  country  say!"  while  Sumner  was  exclaiming,  "Lost,  lost, 
all  is  lost!"1 

1  Rhodes,  History  of  the  Civil  War,  p.  222.  A  remarkably  clear  account  of  the 
battle  of  Chancellorsville  is  given  by  Higginson's  friend  and  comrade.  Colonel 
C.  F.  Morse,  in  his  Letters  Written  During  the  Civil  War  (privately  printed, 
Boston,  1898),  p.  127. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  191 

All  was  not  lost,  as  we  know.  Meade  succeeded  Hooker  in 
command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  Lee's  invasion  of 
Pennsylvania  ended  at  Gettysburg.  In  the  two  months  be- 
tween Chancellorsville  and  Gettysburg  the  Federal  cavalry 
"found  itself"  at  last,  and  Major  Higginson  got  the  chance  for 
which  he  had  so  long  been  waiting. 

Let  us  go  back  to  his  letter  of  May  7,  with  its  optimism 
about  the  army,  and  its  pleasant  news  about  many  friends:  — 

I  received  a  letter  from  Bob  Shaw,  speaking  of  his  wedding, 
this  afternoon.  .  .  .  Charley  should  be  married  too;  it  is 
much  better,  for  his  wife  might  go  to  him  while  in  winter 
quarters.  .  .  .  William  Channing  was  here  this  afternoon,  he 
having  been  on  duty  with  the  Sanitary  people  here.  .  .  . 
Jim  is  very  well  and  happy;  he  has  been  in  charge  of  a  com- 
pany for  some  three  or  four  weeks.  .  .  .  Bob  Shaw  wrote  to 
me  about  Frank,  speaking  very  well  of  him ;  he  will  get  promo- 
tion faster  there  than  in  the  2d  Cavalry.  Did  I  ask  you  to  tell 
Charley  that  I  would  like  his  gray  horse  very  much,  if  he  will 
take  him  to  Fortress  Monroe  and  keep  him  until  we  meet.  I 
need  another  horse  and  cannot  in  any  way  find  one ;  Washing- 
ton has  none.  He  wants  the  money  ($200)  for  the  beast  now. 

A  letter  to  his  sister  Mary,  on  May  8,  contains  a  curious 
prophecy  about  Anna  Lowell  nursing  him  in  case  he  is 
wounded,  and  also  a  characteristically  delicate  and  thought- 
ful message  to  Mrs.  Rogers,  the  sister  of  James  Savage,  killed 
at  Cedar  Mountain  the  year  before. 

Camp  near  Falmouth,  May  8,  1863. 
Dear  Molly,  — 

.  .  .  Bob  Shaw  has  just  written  to  Greely  and  me  after  his 
marriage ;  he  is  as  happy  as  a  king.  I  should  much  like  to  see 
his  wife,  for  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  her  for  years  past.  .  .  . 
For  years  I  have  taken  people  on  trust  or  by  their  faces,  and 


192  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

gone  along  with  them,  waiting  until  the  little  upper  crust, 
which  is  of  one  kind  or  another  always,  was  melted.  It  has 
always  turned  out  well. 

If  I  do  get  hurt  or  ill,  I  shall  be  sent  to  the  Armory  Hospital, 
where  Anna  Lowell  and  Molly  Felton  are  —  that  is  always 
possible,  and  I  shall  be  well  nursed  then.  But  their  life  this 
summer  will  be  hard,  for  it  will  be  a  season  full  of  horrors.  An 
enormous  number  of  wounded  men,  ours  and  rebel,  are  here 
awaiting  transportation.  These  late  battles  have  cost  many 
lives  to  us,  and  very  many  to  the  enemy.  Jim,  by  the  way, 
made  a  charge  with  twenty  men  in  his  command  at  a  body  of 
cavalry,  and  chased  them  across  the  Rapidan  River.  .  .  .  The 
spring  is  very  late  this  year  in  Virginia. 

P.S.  ...  I  send  you  a  flower  which  I  picked  a  week  ago  on 
the  very  spot  where  the  severest  fighting  at  Cedar  Mountain 
took  place.  Give  it  to  Mrs.  Rogers,  if  she  would  like  it,  with  my 
love. 

Colonel  Robert  G.  Shaw  ("Bob"),  it  will  be  remembered, 
was  now  at  the  Readville  camp,  drilling  his  gallant  negro 
regiment,  the  Fifty-Fourth  Massachusetts.  F.  L.  Higginson 
was  one  of  his  first  lieutenants.  Colonel  Charles  Russell  Lowell 
("Charley")  was  also  at  Readville,  drilling  his  new  regiment, 
the  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry.  He  was  betrothed  to 
Josephine  Shaw,  "  Bob's"  sister.  Major  Higginson's  old  friend 
Mrs.  Tappan,  writing  him  from  Newport  on  May  7,  says:  — 

"Mrs.  Tweedie  has  just  been  in  and  says  Willie  James  saw 
the  colored  regiment  reviewed, —  Bob  Shaw's,  —  and  that  they 
were  a  very  fine  set  of  men,  finer  looking  than  any  white  regi- 
ment he  had  seen.  Charles  Lowell  and  Efhe  Shaw  sat  on  their 
great  war  horses  looking  on,  and  looked  so  like  a  king  and 
queen  that  he  did  not  venture  to  speak  to  them.  Charles  ap- 
pears perfectly  happy,  as  well  he  may  be,  for  Effie  is  a  very 
fine  girl,  true  and  full  of  character." 

William  James,  it  may  be  added,  had  a  brother,  Wilkinson 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  193 

James,  who  was  Adjutant  of  the  Fifty-Fourth  and  was  severely 
wounded  in  the  assault  on  Fort  Wagner. 

It  was  on  May  28  that  the  Fifty- Fourth  sailed  from  Boston, 
after  a  great  popular  demonstration  in  honor  of  the  first  col- 
ored regiment  organized  in  the  North.  Henry  Higginson 
remembered  the  day,  in  his  camp  at  Bealeton,  Virginia.  "The 
54th  sails  today,  I  see  by  the  newspapers.  I  am  very  grateful 
that  Frank  is  in  it.  Gentlemen  are  needed  in  such  regiments. 
.  .  .  The  gray  horse  has  come,  and  is  a  capital  purchase." 

That  gray  horse  came  just  in  time,  for  the  major's  big  roan 
had  gone  lame,  and  the  First  Cavalry  was  moving  northward 
now,  in  Colonel  Duffie's  division  of  Pleasonton's  Corps.  They 
were  intermittently  in  touch  with  the  Confederate  cavalry, 
commanded  by  Stuart  and  FitzHugh  Lee,  who  were  guarding 
the  right  flank  of  their  army.  Pleasonton  crossed  to  the  south 
bank  of  the  Rappahannock  at  Kelly's  Ford,  and  had  a  sharp 
fight  on  June  9  at  Brandy  Station.  Four  squadrons  under 
Captain  Tewksbury  and  Lieutenant  J.  J.  Higginson  made  a 
reckless  charge  against  two  regiments  of  Confederate  cavalry. 
"We  went  through  them  like  a  whirlwind,"  said  Sergeant  Sher- 
man. This  battle  of  Brandy  Station,  inconclusive  as  it  was, 
"made  the  Federal  cavalry,"  according  to  a  Southern  military 
critic.  "One  result  of  incalculable  advantage  certainly  did 
follow  this  battle  —  it  made  the  Federal  cavalry.  Up  to  that 
time  confessedly  inferior  to  the  Southern  horsemen,  they 
gained  on  this  day  that  confidence  in  themselves  and  in  their 
commanders  which  enabled  them  to  contest  so  fiercely  the 
subsequent  battlefields  of  June,  July,  and  October."1 

Regaining  the  north  bank  of  the  river,  Pleasonton  reor- 
ganized his  cavalry,  Buford  now  commanding  the  First  Divi- 
sion, and  Gregg  the  Second.  The  First  Massachusetts  was  in 
Kilpatrick's  brigade  of  Gregg's  Division.  Following  the  line  of 
the  Orange  and  Alexandria  Railroad  to  Manassas,  they  turned 
to  the  left,  across  the  Bull  Run  battlefields,  toward  the  passes 

1  Quoted  in  History  of  the  First  Cavalry,  p.  140. 

14 


194  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

in  the  Bull  Run  hills.   On  June  16,  in  camp  near  Union  Mills, 
Major  Higginson  wrote  his  last  letter  home  for  many  a  month : 

We  have  been  at  work  every  day  for  17  days,  and  when  we 
have  been  in  camp  I  have  been  so  very  weary  as  to  be  unfit  to 
write  a  line.  Twice  we  have  been  nearly  24  hours  on  duty,  that 
is  to  say,  in  the  saddle.  .  .  .  Jim  and  I  are  very  well  indeed. 
.  .  .  The  rebel  army  will  get  well  into  Pennsylvania,  will  anger 
the  people  .  .  .  and  finally  will  get  a  severe  whipping.  ...  It 
is  a  desperate  move  on  Lee's  part,  but  it  can  be  checkmated  by 
someone,  and  turned  into  a  great  and  final  defeat.  We  have 
yet  to  see  who  "someone"  is.  .  .  .  We  are  going  to  have  a 
very  severe  campaign,  I  suppose.  .  .  .  You  spoke  of  sending 
one  or  two  little  articles ;  send  nothing  now.  .  .  . 

On  the  following  afternoon,  June  17,  Kilpatrick's  brigade 
reached  Aldie  Gap,  a  narrow  opening  in  the  hills,  through 
which  roads  ran  to  Snicker's  Gap  and  Ashby's  Gap  in  the  Blue 
Ridge,  and  so  on  to  the  valley  of  the  Shenandoah.  Pickets  of 
the  Second  Virginia  Cavalry  had  been  posted  all  day  at  the 
village  of  Aldie,  and  four  other  regiments  of  Virginians,  with 
one  battery,  were  close  at  hand,  hidden  by  the  woods.  As 
Kilpatrick's  troopers  rode  noisily  into  the  little  village,  — 
which  lay  drowsy  in  the  June  heat,  —  shots  were  fired  from 
behind  a  stone  wall.  Kilpatrick  ordered  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Greely  Curtis  to  ascertain  the  enemy's  force,  and  Captain 
L.  M.  Sargent's  squadron,  Lieutenant  Fillebrown  command- 
ing the  first  platoon,  was  sent  forward.  This  squadron  charged 
the  outposts  of  the  Second  Virginia  Regiment,  and  drove  them 
back,  but  in  the  excitement  of  the  charge,  failed  to  stop  at  the 
point  indicated  by  Curtis,  who  now  ordered  Major  Higginson 
to  halt  Sargent's  squadron.  As  this  order  was  being  carried 
out,  a  regiment  of  Virginia  cavalry  —  probably  the  Fifth,  under 
Colonel  Rosser  —  charged  down  the  rough  winding  road  upon 
the  Massachusetts  men.   For  a  moment  there  was  fierce  hand- 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  195 

to-hand  fighting  with  sabres  and  pistols.  Major  Higginson  fell, 
severely  wounded,  Captain  Sargent  lay  apparently  dead,  and 
Lieutenant  Fillebrown  was  shot  through  the  body.  Lieutenant 
Parsons,  reforming  the  squadron,  bore  the  enemy  back  an  in- 
stant, only  to  find  himself  cut  off  from  his  regiment.  Kil- 
patrick's  brigade  was  not  in  effective  position,  while  the  Vir- 
ginians knew  every  foot  of  ground.  The  Fourth  and  Fifth 
Virginia  drove  back  Captain  Tewksbury,  who  was  striving  to 
support  Captain  Sargent's  men.  Captain  C.  F.  Adams's 
squadron  was  holding  its  ground,  but  nothing  more.1  The 
Fourth  New  York  —  Cesnola's  regiment  —  refused  to  follow 
their  colonel  in  the  charge,  and  he  was  captured  with  the  col- 
ors. Colonel  Curtis  now  ordered  Lieutenant  Davis's  squadron 
of  the  First  Massachusetts  to  charge  up  the  narrow  road.  But 
dismounted  sharpshooters,  hidden  behind  the  stone  wall, 
opened  a  murderous  fire,  and  Davis's  whole  squadron  was 
killed  or  captured.  Among  the  prisoners  was  Lieutenant 
James  J.  Higginson. 

Then  the  currents  of  this  confused  battle  turned.  The  four 
squadrons  of  the  First  Massachusetts,  which  had  borne  the 
brunt  of  the  fighting,  had  lost  more  than  half  their  men  — 
killed,  wounded,  and  captured.  But  Gregg  now  brought  up  the 
First  Maine,  and  Kilpatrick  swung  the  Second  New  York  and 
the  Sixth  Ohio  into  action.  That  did  the  business.  As  the  sun 
went  down  over  Aldie  Gap,  the  Confederates  fell  back  along 
the  Snickersville  road,  under  Stuart's  orders. 

Let  us  now  return  to  Major  Higginson,  whom  we  left  lying 

1  "My  poor  men  were  just  slaughtered  and  all  we  could  do  was  to  stand  still 
and  be  shot  down,  while  the  other  squadrons  rallied  behind  us.  The  men  fell  right 
and  left  and  the  horses  were  shot  through  and  through,  and  no  man  turned  his 
back,  but  they  only  called  on  me  to  charge.  I  could  n't  charge,  except  across  a 
ditch,  up  a  hill  and  over  two  high  stone  walls,  from  behind  which  the  enemy  were 
slaying  us;  so  I  held  my  men  there  until,  what  with  men  shot  down  and  horses 
wounded  and  plunging,  my  ranks  were  disordered  and  then  I  fell  slowly  back  to 
some  woods."  A  Cycle  of  Adams  Letters,  vol.  2,  pp.  36,  37.  This  letter,  while 
sketching  vividly  the  fortune  of  Colonel  Adams's  immediate  command,  gives  a 
most  inadequate  account  of  the  engagement  as  a  whole. 


196  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

in  the  road  with  a  sabre-cut  across  his  face  and  a  pistol  bullet 
at  the  base  of  his  spine.  Many  a  time,  in  later  years,  did  his 
friends  persuade  him  to  tell  the  story  of  that  rough-and-tumble 
fight:  how  "the  one  who  struck  me  across  the  face  was  a  fine 
handsome-looking  fellow,1  and  the  one  whom  I  hit  on  the  head 
was  a  bad-looking  chap";  how  Rosser's  men  left  him  to  die, 
taking  with  them  the  gray  horse,  wounded  though  it  was  by 
four  bullets;2  how  the  Major  painfully  pulled  off  his  shoulder- 
straps,  the  only  distinguishing  mark  between  him  and  a  pri- 
vate; how  he  took  out  his  diary  to  "make  a  memorandum  or 
two  and  say  good-bye  to  my  father";  and  having  done  this, 
proceeded  to  crawl  through  the  woods  and  down  to  the  brook, 
and  so  on  and  on  until  his  men  found  him. 

But  it  is  better  to  quote  a  few  paragraphs  from  the 
Reminiscences. 

It  had  been  a  hot,  tiresome  ride.  The  men  came  along  in 
pretty  good  order,  although  one  of  the  regiments  belonging  to 
another  brigade  galloped  about  to  get  water,  and  acted  in  a 
foolish  way.  Just  as  we  came  to  the  town  of  Aldie,  we  heard  a 
little  firing,  and  were  ordered  to  the  front.  As  we  rode  through 
the  town,  we  saw  a  little  fighting  going  on  in  front  of  us  —  a 
little  charge  by  some  men  of  another  regiment.  We  turned  to 
the  right,  went  up  by  a  little  wood,  and  our  regiment  was  put 
into  a  field  close  by  a  farmhouse  and  close  by  the  road.  There, 
Colonel  Curtis,  in  command,  left  me  with  two  squadrons,  and 

1  Major  Higginson's  son,  Mr.  A.  H.  Higginson,  tells  me  that  his  father  supposed 
that  the  Confederate  officer  who  gave  him  the  sabre  cut  across  his  face  was  Colonel, 
afterwards  General,  Rosser.  When  the  Hooker  statue  was  dedicated  in  Boston,  a 
delegation  of  Confederate  veterans  was  invited  to  attend,  and  among  them  was 
General  Rosser.  Major  Higginson  and  his  son  were  dining  in  the  University  Club 
that  evening,  and  one  of  these  Confederate  officers,  who,  Mr.  A.  H.  Higginson 
thinks,  was  General  Rosser,  came  over  to  their  table  and,  touching  Major  Higgin- 
son's shoulder,  remarked  genially:  "I  want  to  see  how  good  a  job  I  did  on  your 
face,  that  day  at  Aldie."  The  Major  gave  him  both  hands,  and  the  two  old  men 
fraternized  until  the  small  hours  of  the  morning. 

2  The  gray  was  recaptured,  and  served  Major  Higginson  as  a  riding-horse  for 
many  years. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  197 

went  to  attend  to  something  else.  I  rode  up  to  this  farmhouse, 
and  saw  one  or  two  soldiers'  jackets  hanging  at  the  door,  and 
was  looking  about,  when  I  saw  a  regiment  coming  down  at  full 
tilt  on  the  road  towards  us.  I  immediately  ordered  one 
squadron  into  the  road  and  we  charged  these  men.  They 
turned  straight  around  and  ran  away.  We  came  very  near 
their  rear,  but  could  not  reach  them.  They  went  down  a  hill 
and  at  the  top  I  ordered  a  halt.  Captain  Sargent,  with  two  or 
three  men,  rode  straight  on  down  into  a  valley  after  a  few  of 
the  troopers  we  had  been  pursuing,  and  began  fighting  them. 
I  yelled  to  him  to  come  back,  but  he  would  not  do  so,  and  fear- 
ing that  he  would  get  into  trouble,  I  rode  down  to  give  him  the 
order,  when  right  behind  us  came  a  whole  regiment  of  Con- 
federate cavalry  at  full  speed.  I  shouted  to  Sargent  and  the 
two  or  three  men  with  him  to  ride  for  their  lives,  and  we  gal- 
loped up  a  hill  in  front  of  us,  where  we  lost  one  man  through 
the  balking  of  his  horse.  We  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  and 
the  Confederates  had  stopped,  as  we  were  not  worth  pursuing. 
Sargent  turned  around  in  his  saddle  and  made  faces  at  them 
with  his  fingers,  whereat  they  pursued  us,  and  we  rode  down 
another  very  steep  hill,  and  at  the  bottom  they  caught  us,  and 
we  had  a  little  shindy.  Sargent  was  knocked  from  his  horse 
and  shot,  as  he  thought,  just  above  the  heart.  One  of  our  men 
was  killed,  and  one  lieutenant  was  shot  through  the  side.  In 
striking  a  man  opposite  to  me,  who  was  using  improper 
language,  I  was  knocked  from  my  horse,  and  found  myself  in 
the  road.  Over  me  was  standing  a  man  v/hom  I  had  unhorsed, 
and  who  struck  at  my  head.  He  then  proposed  to  take  me 
prisoner,  but  I  told  him  I  should  die  in  a  few  minutes,  for  I  put 
my  hand  under  and  found  a  hole  in  my  backbone.  He  took 
what  he  could  get  of  my  goods,  and  rode  off,  leaving  my  horse, 
which  had  been  shot  with  four  bullets. 

So  in  five  minutes  the  shindy  was  over,  and  three  of  us  were 
wounded  and  one  dying.  When  they  were  out  of  sight,  I  in- 
duced Captain  Sargent  to  get  up  off  the  ground  and  come 


198  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

under  a  tree,  where  I  left  him  close  by  a  little  house.  He  de- 
clared he  could  go  no  further  and  should  die  in  a  few  minutes. 
I  crawled  along  to  a  brook,  where  I  lay  down  and  drank  a  pail- 
ful of  water,  then  crossed  the  brook  and  got  up  into  a  wood. 
When  I  had  nearly  reached  a  fence,  I  heard  some  noise,  and 
lay  down  in  the  leaves  and  made  a  little  memorandum  in  my 
notebook.  Just  then  a  solid  shot  came  down  close  by  me. 
Presently,  when  all  was  quiet,  I  got  up  again,  climbed  over  the 
fence,  and  walked  in  the  direction  where  fighting  was  still  go- 
ing on,  and  presently  came  in  sight  of  our  men,  many  of  whom 
had  been  killed  or  wounded.  I  lay  down  on  the  ground,  was 
presently  put  on  a  horse,  which  I  could  hardly  bear,  and  taken 
to  the  hospital,  where  Dr.  Osborne  looked  at  me,  and  began 
to  patch  me  up.  He  made  a  little  slit  in  my  back  to  see  if  he 
could  find  the  ball,  but  could  not;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  had  a 
pistol  ball  in  the  sacrum,  a  good  slash  across  the  cheek,  a 
punch  in  the  shoulder,  which  was  of  little  account,  and  a  bad 
whack  on  the  head,  which  also  turned  out  to  have  no  results 
except  a  sore.  Then  I  was  taken  down  to  the  village  by 
Colonel  Curtis,  —  some  men  carrying  the  litter,  —  and  put  in 
a  house  with  one  or  two  other  prisoners,  and  there  left  for  the 
night.  I  heard  that  my  brother  had  been  captured,  and  a  good 
many  of  our  men  had  been  killed  or  wounded;  in  fact,  we  had 
lost  about  half  of  our  regiment.  But  we  had  beaten  the  enemy 
back.  .  .  . 

Luckily  for  me,  I  was  in  splendid  condition,  and  lost  con- 
siderable blood.  The  next  day  we  were  put  into  ambulances 
and  sent  toward  Alexandria.  The  road  was  very  rough  indeed. 
Our  lieutenant,  who  had  been  found  and  brought  in  by  some 
men,  was  with  me  in  the  ambulance,  and  he  suffered  consider- 
able pain.  We  drove  over  a  very  rough  road  which  had  been 
much  used,  tree-roots  standing  out  and  giving  us  terrible 
jerks.  About  dusk  we  reached  the  railway  and  were  put  into 
freight  cars.  Of  course  we  had  had  nothing  to  eat,  nor  could  I 
eat  at  all,  my  face  being  in  such  a  condition  that  any  move- 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  199 

merit  was  painful.  I  could  stand  up  or  lie  down,  but  could  not 
sit  down,  and  I  remember  well  one  of  our  men  lifted  me  into 
the  car,  and  was  greatly  shocked.  He  was  a  Scotchman  named 
McNabb,  a  most  insubordinate,  troublesome  soldier,  but  was 
a  good  man  after  all. 

The  train  jerked  us  to  and  fro,  and  we  got  into  Alexandria 
about  one  or  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  were  taken  out  by  a 
lot  of  young  men,  who  acted  as  if  they  were  on  a  picnic,  and 
who  got  us  into  ambulances  with  many  jokes,  and  at  last  we 
were  carried  to  a  hospital,  and  got  to  bed  somewhere.  I  had  a 
little  straw  mattress,  with  a  deep  hollow  in  the  middle.  It  was 
a  great  relief,  but  still  was  very  bad  to  lie  on,  for  I  could  lie 
only  on  one  side,  one  shoulder  being  hurt,  the  back  of  my  head 
being  hurt,  and  my  back  being  hurt,  and,  on  the  other  side, 
my  face  being  cut.  Our  wounds  were  dressed,  and  I  found  in 
the  morning  lying  next  me  Dr.  John  Perry,  whose  leg  had  been 
broken  by  a  kick  of  his  horse.  On  my  other  side  lay  our  lieu- 
tenant, who  had  considerable  morphine  to  relieve  his  pain  and 
who  would  sit  up  in  bed  and  eat  peanuts.  I  knew  that  he  had 
been  shot  through  the  side,  and  I  watched  to  see  them  come 
out,  but  none  of  them  came.1 

There  were  two  or  three  rough  privates  who  waited  upon  us, 
and  tried  to  help.  They  were  good  boys,  but  did  not  know 
anything  and  were  not  nice  at  first,  but  presently  they  learned 
better  manners.  My  difficulty  was  getting  in  a  position  in 
which  I  could  lie  without  excessive  weariness;  there  was  no 
good  side,  and  I  could  not  move  without  putting  my  arms 
around  somebody's  neck  and  then  swinging  from  one  side  to 
another. 

John  Perry  was  waiting  to  have  his  leg  set.  Presently  the 
young  surgeon  brought  in  a  lady  from  Lexington,  who  was  an 
amateur  nurse,  and  had  never  set  a  leg,  but  wished  to  do  so. 

'Lieutenant  Fillebrown  is  still  living  (1921),  and  sends  word  to  me  through 
General  Morris  Schaff  that,  when  their  wounds  were  to  be  dressed,  Major  Higgin- 
son  said  to  the  surgeon:  "Look  after  that  man  [Fillebrown]  first.  He  's  hurt  a 
great  deal  more  than  I  am." 


200  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

She  begged  to  set  this  leg,  took  nearly  an  hour  about  it,  so  that 
John  got  faint  —  and  the  surgeon  let  her  do  it.  Then  she  pro- 
posed to  wash  my  wounds,  but  I  told  her  I  was  much  obliged  to 
her,  but  would  get  along  without  it. 

There  we  lay  several  days.  Presently  Colonel  Lowell  came 
to  see  me,  found  out  about  my  condition,  and  reported  to  my 
father,  who  came  a  day  later.  He,  together  with  Channing 
Clapp  and  two  or  three  soldiers,  carried  me  to  the  ferry.  We 
crossed  the  river,  and  I  was  taken  to  the  Armory  Square  Hos- 
pital, where  Anna  Lowell  was  a  nurse,  and  was  put  in  her 
ward.  Mary  Felton  was  another  nurse,  and  came  in  to  see  me. 
The  bed  was  good,  and  I  was  much  more  comfortable.  Then, 
the  next  day  Anna  brought  the  surgeon  of  the  hospital,  who 
was  a  friend  of  hers,  and  who  dressed  my  wounds  carefully. 
Anna  saw  that  I  had  good  food  which  I  could  eat,  and  I  had 
not  very  much  pain.  It  was  decided  to  send  me  home,  and 
after  the  second  or  third  day  and  a  restless  night  or  two,  I  was 
taken  to  the  railroad  and  put  into  a  car  full  of  wounded  men, 
which  was  going  North.  All  the  seats  had  been  taken  out,  and 
a  lot  of  beds  slung  from  standards  one  over  the  other  and  one 
beside  the  other,  with  just  a  narrow  space  between.  Opposite 
to  me  lay  a  man,  young  and  pleasant-looking,  who  had  lost  his 
leg  up  to  his  thigh,  and  was  evidently  dying.  I  saw  many 
horrid  cases  in  the  hospital.  John  Perry  went  in  the  same  car 
with  me,  and  as  the  mattresses  on  which  we  lay  were  slung 
from  rubber  straps,  we  did  as  well  as  we  could ;  but  it  was  a 
dreadful  night,  and  the  language  was  fearful. 

In  the  morning  we  were  at  Jersey  City,  got  across  the  river, 
and  then  we  were  put  into  wagons,  and  I  was  driven  to  a  hospi- 
tal in  Union  Square,  where  father  got  Doctor  Stone,  and  he  re- 
dressed my  wounds.  John  Perry  was  driven  to  his  home, 
where  his  leg  had  to  be  broken  again  and  set  straight,  for  this 
friendly  nurse,  who  was  learning  her  business,  had  set  it 
crooked.  That  night  I  was  taken  home  in  a  sleeping-car  and 
carried  to  father's  house  in  Chauncy  Street,  where  I  passed 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  SECOND  PHASE  201 

several  months.  After  a  few  days,  Dr.  Cabot,  who  had  ex- 
amined my  wounds  and  had  seen  a  piece  of  cloth  and  piece  of 
bone  come  out  of  my  back,  thought  he  had  found  the  bullet. 
He  had  already  probed  for  it,  and  the  second  time,  by  using  a 
porcelain  probe,  got  the  black  mark  of  the  lead,  and  then  knew 
that  he  had  found  the  bullet.  So  he  gave  me  ether  for  the  sec- 
ond time,  and  when  I  came  to,  the  bullet  was  out,  and  he  was 
sitting  in  the  chair  saying,  "Thank  God!"  The  truth  is  that 
the  bullet  had  been  close  by  the  seat  of  the  nerves,  and  if  it 
had  not  come  out,  I  should  have  been  paralyzed  as  to  my 
lower  limbs.  That  is  what  I  had  feared  from  the  first,  because 
I  knew  that  I  was  shot  pretty  nearly  where  William  Sedgwick 
was  shot,  and  he  was  paralyzed  below  his  waist,  and  presently 
died.  I  had  a  dreadful  night  after  the  extraction  of  the  bullet, 
for  he  had  touched  one  of  the  great  nerves,  and  that  began  to 
beat  like  a  hammer;  but  father  gave  me  so  much  laudanum 
that  I  went  to  sleep  and  the  next  day  was  all  right.  After  a 
while,  I  was  well  enough  to  go  downstairs,  and  presently  to  go 
out  to  Waltham  and  stay  with  Mr.  Frank  Lowell  and  his 
daughter.1 

1  In  Mr.  J.  T.  Morse's  brilliant  biographical  sketch  of  Major  Higginson,  printed 
in  the  Harvard  Graduates1  Magazine  for  March,  1920,  and  also  printed  in  the 
Proceedings  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society  for  1920,  appear  two  pleasant 
footnotes  to  the  Aldie  affair,  written  by  Mrs.  Higginson:  — 

"Some  years  ago,  when  Mr.  Higginson  and  I  were  in  Washington  (I  have  for- 
gotten the  exact  date),  I  asked  him  to  take  me  to  Aldie  and  show  me  the  ground 
where  the  battle  was  fought,  —  it  was  really  not  a  battle  but  an  active  skirmish 
fight,  —  where  Mr.  Higginson  was  wounded,  which  was  the  17th  of  June,  1863. 
\Ve  went  first  by  rail  to  Leesburg  and  there  we  hired  a  mule  team  and  open  wagon 
and  drove  to  Aldie.  The  wagon  could  n't  go  as  far  as  the  battlefield  itself,  so  we 
left  it  by  the  roadside  and  walked.  As  we  approached  the  field  we  saw  a  man  plow- 
ing, who  said:  'Hello,  friends,  you  come  to  see  where  we  beat  you  Yankees  at  the 
Battle  of  Aldie.'  (He  was  a  pleasant-looking  farmer,  I  should  say  about  12  or  15 
years  younger  than  Mr.  Higginson  was  at  that  time.)  Evidently  he  was  an  ex- 
Confederate.  We  said :  '  Yes,  we  came  to  see  it  and  to  look  the  place  over.'  Upon 
which  he  replied:  'Well,  I  remember  all  about  it  myself.  I  was  about  a  dozen 
years  old  and  I  heard  the  fighting  from  my  house  which  is  over  there,'  —  pointing 
to  a  farmhouse  at  no  great  distance,  —  'and  when  the  fighting  had  stopped,  my 
mother  said,  "I  want  you  to  go  with  this  pail  of  water  and  give  a  drink  to  all  the 
men  you  find  there,  no  matter  whether  they  are  Federalists  or  Confederates. 


202  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

There  is  a  Federal  major  there  who  has  been  badly  wounded  and  a  captain  and 
other  wounded  men,  and  I  want  you  to  look  after  all  of  them."  So  I  went.  There 
were  one  or  two  wounded  men,  but  I  could  n't  find  the  Major.  I  looked  everywhere 
for  him,  asked  a  few  men  who  were  left  if  they  knew  anything  about  him,  but  they 
said  they  did  n't.  They  believed  that  in  some  way  he  must  have  managed  to  get 
back  to  camp,  although  wounded.  Well,  the  long  and  short  of  it  is  that  I  could 
n't  find  him  anywhere  —  he  got  away.' 

"  Upon  which,  my  husband  laughed  and  said, '  Yes,  you  are  right ;  he  did  get  away. 
I  am  the  Major.'  The  man  laughed  heartily,  held  out  his  hand  and  said:  'Well, 
Major,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  At  least,  it  is  all  right  now.'  We  walked  over  the 
whole  place,  Mr.  Higginson  explaining  to  me  in  detail  just  all  the  action  of  the  fight. 
We  saw  the  monument  which  had  been  erected  on  the  spot,  giving  the  names  of 
the  men  engaged  in  the  fight;  also,  names  of  prisoners  and  the  wounded  men, 
among  which  were  Mr.  Higginson's  own  brother,  Captain  James  J.  Higginson, 
and  his  own  name  —  as  having  been  badly  wounded.  It  was  a  lovely  day  in  spring 
and  the  place  looked  as  peaceful  as  if  there  had  never  been  any  fighting  there. 
"Another  incident  connected  with  Aldie  is  also  interesting:  — 
"  My  son,  who  is  a  member  of  various  hunting  clubs  in  this  country,  was  riding 
with  a  hunting  club  of  the  region  all  about  Aldie,  —  and  in  Aldie,  —  when  one  of 
the  Southern  members  said  to  him:  'By  the  way,  was  n't  your  father  wounded  at 
the  battle  of  Aldie?  If  so,  I  wish  you  would  give  him  this  sword,  which  was  picked 
up  on  the  battlefield;  he  may  like  to  keep  it  as  a  remembrance.'  This  sword  is 
now  hanging  in  Mr.  Higginson's  room  and  is  a  very  precious  relic  to  us." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE 

Resuming,  marching,  ever  in  darkness  marching,  on  in  the  ranks, 
The  unknown  road  still  marching. 

—  Walt  Whitman,  Drum-Taps. 

It  was  in  the  little  house  at  22  Chauncy  Street,  then,  that 
Henry  Higginson,  tended  lovingly  by  his  father,  —  for  there 
was  no  other  nurse,  —  tossed  restlessly  during  those  July  days 
that  decided  the  ultimate  victory  of  the  North.  Higginson  had 
done  his  best;  had  waited  long  for  his  "one  crowded  hour  of 
glorious  life";  had  been  cut  and  beaten  down  in  an  obscure, 
random  fight;  and  here  he  lay,  hopelessly  "out  of  it,"  while 
both  his  old  regiments  were  marching  into  Gettysburg ! 

On  July  4  Boston  got  the  news  that  Meade  had  defeated  Lee 
on  the  previous  day,  and  that  Grant  had  taken  Vicksburg. 
Faithful  Greely  Curtis,  stricken  now  with  malaria,  and  able  to 
keep  in  his  saddle  for  but  one  week  more,  writes  on  July  6  from 
Westminster,  Maryland :  — 

' '  The  men  are  moving  so  that  I  have  but  \  minute  to  write 
—  Genl.  Kilpatrick  sent  me  down  here  with  one  squadron 
and  500  prisoners  —  now  the  whole  army  seems  to  be  moving 
in  pursuit. 

".  .  .  It  was  a  tremendous  fight  at  Gettysburg  and  we 
whipped.  The  good  old  army  of  the  Potomac  fought  splendidly. 
Thursday  afternoon  it  went  very  hard  with  us  and  looked  like  a 
defeat.  By  the  grace  of  God  a  council  of  corps  commanders 
decided  to  stand  and  fight  it  out  the  next  day.  Friday  it  was 
terrible,  but  we  had  a  strong  position  and  the  slaughter  of  the 
gray-backs  was  —  what  shall  I  say  —  awful  and  splendid.  At 
any  rate  I  saw  heaps  of  dead  30  in  a  pile,  touching.    Now  I 


204  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

suppose  the  rebs  are  in  full  retreat.  If  the  army  from  Washing- 
ton will  but  move  up  and  cut  off  their  retreat  to  Richmond,  I 
see  no  reason  why  the  war  should  not  be  over,  up  here,  in  three 
weeks.  We  have  had  the  hardest  sort  of  work,  but  being  in  a 
manner  detached  we  have  managed  to  take  pretty  good  care  of 
the  horses  and  have  lost  but  few.  Morse  tells  me  that  the  2nd 
never  fought  so  well  —  7  color-bearers  shot  in  about  20  min- 
utes, and  men  jumping  out  of  the  ranks,  vying  with  each  other 
for  the  bloody  honor  of  carrying  it." 

Two  days  later  he  writes  from  Frederick,  Maryland :  — 
"...  The  army  has  been  moving  through  here  to-day  and 
yesterday.  We  hear  that  the  rebs  are  crossing  at  Williamsport 
—  I  never  thought  that  we  could  overtake  them  between  Gettys- 
burg and  W'msport,  —  the  map  will  show  you  why,  —  but  I 
did  hope  and  fairly  believe  that  Halleck  would  know  enough  to 
try  to  cut  off  their  retreat  with  fresh  troops  either  on  this  side 
of  the  river  or  in  the  valley  of  the  Shenandoah.  Hurrah  for 
Vicksburg!  If  we  only  follow  these  scoundrels  up  vigorously, 
we  can  sit  down  under  our  Thanksgiving  fig-tree  and  eat  the 
turkeys  thereof.  ..." 

And  on  July  18,  while  still  with  the  regiment,  although  in- 
capacitated for  service,  Colonel  Curtis  writes  from  Harper's 
Ferry  some  valuable  notes  upon  Meade's  pursuit  of  Lee. 

"The  1st  and  2nd  days  at  Gettysburg  we  were  crowded.  In 
the  third  and  final  struggle  our  lines  were  held  throughout  and 
their  repulse  was  complete  and  deadly.  Their  retreat  was  not 
a  rout,  as  the  newspapers  would  have  you  believe.  They  were 
in  a  hurry,  but  not  in  a  mob.  They  took  up  a  strong  line  near 
Hagerstown,  a  part  of  it  passing  right  through  our  old  camping 
ground  at  St.  James  College,  and  evidently  awaited  an  attack 
in  preference  to  crossing  with  insufficient  means  to  do  it  rap- 
idly. Meade,  it  seems  to  me  at  the  time  did  n't  mean  to  attack 
unless  he  could  get  them  on  the  wing.  It  was  said  on  pretty 
good  authority  that  we  were  to  have  attacked  last  Sunday  if 
the  field  had  not  been  so  soft  with  rain  that  artillery  could  not 


THE  CIVIL  WAR;  THIRD  PHASE  205 

be  handled.    The  fields  were  soft,  very  soft.    Our  brigade, 

under  the  d dest  fool  you  ever  dreamed  of,  H by  name, 

was  sent  down  the  St.  James  road  to  W'msport  to  feel  the 
enemy.  We  did  nothing.  Our  regt.  was  put  on  the  advance  2 
days  in  3,  and  if  I  had  obeyed  all  the  orders  I  rec'd  from  the 

sapient  H there  would  have  been  very  little  of  the  regt.  left. 

But  he  was  such  an  overpowering  damned  fool  of  a  retired  (or 
X)  barkeeper  that  I  made  no  bones  at  all  of  doing  just  what 
I  darned  pleased  and  he  was  happy.  We  fired  away  lots  of  car- 
bine ammunition  as  skirmishers  dismounted,  attacking  a  wood 
held  by  infantry,  had  2  or  3  men  wounded  and  advanced  slowly 
to  within  \  a  mile  of  their  lines.  .  .  .  The  aft.  we  crossed  came 
the  news  that  the  rebs  had  crossed  the  night  before.  It  was  and 
is  a  sad  blow,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  Meade  was  not  right  in 
refusing  to  attack  them  posted,  as  they  were,  strongly.  I  saw 
Morse  day  before  yesterday,  here,  and  he  says  that  he  thinks 
we  should  have  been  repulsed  and  the  best  corps  commanders 
are  said  to  have  been  of  the  same  opinion.  I  think  there  was  a 
want  of  information  which  should  have  been  procured  at  any 
cost,  save  a  general  engagement,  which  seemed  and  seems  to 
me  the  only  want  of  generalship  on  Meade's  part.  .  .  . 

"Now  everything  appears  uncertain:  whether  we  are  to  re- 
cruit the  army  in  strength  and  rest,  or  press  on  in  the  old  route 
to  Richmond.  Since  leaving  the  Potomac  the  A.  P.  has  really 
done  splendidly  in  marching  and  fighting,  but  I  think  that  the 
life  of  the  thing  has  fizzed  out  now  that  Lee  has  recouped. 
Still  the  Southern  and  S.  Western  news  is  so  cheering  that  I  am 
in  favor  of  pushing  them  while  they  are  tottering,  if  some  good 
plan  can  be  speedily  adopted  for  so  doing.  If  we  are  to  have 
merely  a  repetition  of  last  winter's  work,  then  I  am  fairly 
heartsick.  It  seems  to  me  that  every  time  we  have  followed  in 
the  steps  of  Geo.  B.  [McClellan]  we  have  done  well  and  when 
varying  from  his  plans  we  have  done  ill.  There  is  a  strong  and 
general  confidence  in  Meade,  which  even  Lee's  escape  has  not 
destroyed.    Our  regt.  is  in  good  shape  —  well  shod,  short 


206  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

officered,  and  much  fatigued,  but  the  horses  in  good  condition, 
and  the  poor  old  dear  has  this  time  managed  to  get  ahead  of 
other  regiments  in  stealing  forage,  horses,  etc.  .  .  . 

"  Personal  —  I  ami  kind  o'  run  down.  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
see  this  campaign  through  and  did  up  to  the  crossing  here  — 
but  now  am  lying  off,  sleeping  and  eating  and  getting  strong 
very  fast.   Shall  be  fit  for  duty  very  soon.  ..." 

But  Greely  Curtis  was  never  again  fit  for  military  duty. 

On  the  evening  of  that  very  day,  July  18,  came  the  fatal 
assault  of  the  Fifty-Fourth  Massachusetts  upon  Fort  Wagner. 
Colonel  Robert  Gould  Shaw,  at  the  head  of  his  negro  regiment, 
scaled  the  parapet,  but  was  shot  dead  as  he  was  shouting, 
"Forward,  Fifty-Fourth."  "Stainless  soldier  on  the  walls," 
wrote  Emerson  in  his  "Voluntaries,"  and  St.  Gaudens  has  im- 
mortalized him  in  bronze.  But  neither  verse  nor  bronze  can  be 
finer  than  the  words  of  Shaw's  father,  when  he  heard  that  his 
son  had  been  buried  in  the  common  trench  with  his  negroes: 
"Nor  is  there  any  monument  so  worthy  of  a  soldier  as  the 
mound  heaped  over  him  by  the  bodies  of  his  comrades." 

James  Savage,  Stephen  Perkins,  and  now  "Bob"  Shaw! 
Only  one  other  blow  of  equal  or  even  greater  poignancy  re- 
mained to  fall  upon  Henry  Higginson ;  but  Charles  Lowell  was 
to  bear  for  another  year  what  seemed  a  charmed  life.  News 
from  the  front  came  slowly,  but  it  was  learned  that  Lieutenant 
F.  L.  Higginson,  of  Colonel  Shaw's  regiment,  had  been  assigned 
to  the  command  of  a  fatigue  detail  on  that  July  evening,  and 
had  not  participated  in  the  attack  on  Wagner.  Lieutenant 
James  J.  Higginson,  the  merry,  stammering,  indomitable 
"Jim,"  captured  at  Aldie,  was  lying  in  Libby  Prison. 

"  Don't  forget  to  tell  me  what  has  become  of  my  little  brown 
horse  [he  writes  from  prison  to  Henry].  Poor  Rats!  He  was 
taken  and  now  where  he  is,  I  don't  know.  Did  you  lose  your 
gray  horse?  I  remember  you  were  on  him  that  Aldie  day.  Do 
you  recollect  our  halting  on  the  old  Bull  Run  battlefield  that 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  207 

morning,  Briiderchen?  That  was  where  I  last  saw  you.  I  had 
no  idea  that  somebody  shot  you  while  you  were  down  —  which 
little  fact  I  have  carefully  noted  in  my  memory,  for  future  ref- 
erence. My  ideas  on  the  subject  of  using  arms  in  a  fight  (my 
own,  I  mean)  have  undergone  a  most  complete  change  in  the 
past  few  months  and  my  scruples  have  vanished.  I  used  to 
think  officers  ought  not  to  fight  themselves  —  only  direct.  Tell 
me  all  about  the  regiment  and  its  conduct  throughout  the 
summer.  I  am  quite  well,  beyond  a  few  scurvy  sores,  not  seri- 
ous, however.  Send  me  in  the  next  box  a  parcel  of  old  papers, 
from  June  1st  down,  especially  those  relative  to  Gettysburg 
and  the  attack  on  Ft.  Wagner." 

Never,  in  fact,  were  more  cheerful  letters  sent  from  Libby 
Prison  than  those  by  James  Higginson. 

"At  first  it  was  weary  work  [he  writes  in  August],  and  time 
hung  heavy  on  our  hands;  but  the  books  we  got  helped  us 
greatly.  My  Virgil  and  some  French  books  lent  me  by  friends 
in  the  prison  have  given  me  great  pleasure.  .  .  .  The  Western 
men  here  I  like,  and  have  frequently  long  talks  with  them  — 
they  have  more  snap  about  them  than  our  men.  .  .  .  How  is 
my  little  brown  horse?" 

On  September  4  he  writes  again :  — 

"  There  is  no  news  to  tell  you.  Of  course,  under  such  a  cen- 
sorship as  our  letters  are  subject  to,  nothing  specially  interest- 
ing can  be  told.  My  wants  are  the  subject  on  which  I  shall  just 
now  dwell.  You  at  home  can  ascertain  whether  the  chances  of 
our  staying  here  are  many  or  few.  If  we  are  to  stay  any  time 
longer,  I  should  like  some  coffee,  sugar,  etc.,  and  also  some 
more  books.  It  might  be  worth  while  to  risk  sending  the  coffee 
anyway.  As  for  books,  pick  me  out  two  or  three  of  your  French 
books  (no  valuable  copies)  and  your  little  black-covered  fat- 
bellied  French-English  dictionary.  We  have  here  "Corinne," 
Moliere,  "Telemaque,"  and  "Les  Trois  Mousquetaires." 
Send  if  possible  G.  Sand's  —  what's  the  name  of  her  famous 
book?  I  leave  the  matter  to  you ;  pick  out  some  4  or  5  and  send 


208  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

them  along.  My  chief  need  is  money,  of  which  I  can  get  none 
at  all.  We  manage  to  pass  time  pretty  well  now  —  having 
some  300  books  in  the  establishment,  mostly  purchased  here. 
Wrap  each  book  in  a  newspaper  to  prevent  chafing.  .  .  .  All 
is  going  on  well  here,  as  regards  health  and  spirits.   ..." 

Captain  Charles  Francis  Adams,  writing  affectionately  from 
the  front  to  the  wounded  Major,  continues  to  speak  disrespect- 
fully of  his  senior  officers,  for  the  "Fulmens"  ("chain  light- 
ning" and  "sheet  lightning")  of  the  following  letter  are  the 
two  brothers  with  whom  Adams  "never  could  get  on." 

Camp  of  ist  Mass.  Cav. 
Sulphur  Sps.,  Va.,  Sunday,  9  Aug.' '63. 
My  dear  Henry:  — 

I  got  yours  of  the  3d  inst.  yesterday.  I  was  glad  enough  to 
hear  that  the  bullet  had  been  extracted  and  that  you  were 
doing  well.  I  hope  that  you'll  have  a  pleasant  convalescence 
and  enjoy  all  the  laurels,  wines,  fruits,  and  bon-bons  which, 
rumor  tells  us,  await  at  home  the  battered  war-worn  veterans  of 
our  many  fights.  What  you  have  earned  —  enjoy!  .  .  .  Poor 
Cary  —  our  list  of  officers  creeps  up  apace!  —  but  I  was  glad 
indeed  to  hear  that  Jim  got  off  untouched,  and  I  hope  he  will 
soon  walk  free,  and  remember  "the  Libby"  only  as  one  of 
the  follies  of  his  youth  and  a  place  to  be  avoided.  I  look  for 
"Rats"  daily,  but  have  not  yet  seen  him  bestridden  by  Jim's 
gallant  captor. 

As  for  us  here.  We  are  encamped  just  opposite  to  Sulphur 
Springs  on  the  South  bank  —  just  where  we  used  to  look  so  in- 
tently for  the  rebel  pickets.  The  Fulmens  are  both  here,  but 
they  don't  trouble  me  much  —  and  I  think  I  've  run  my  ma- 
chine too  long,  and  through  too  severe  times,  to  be  continually 
pestered  by  them  with  efforts  —  first  to  teach  me  my  duty, 
and  then  to  enforce  my  performance  of  it,  and  I  suspect  some 
such  idea  occurs  at  times  to  even  old  chain  lightning  himself; 
and,  as  for  sheet  lightning,  he's  on  his  taps,  and,  looking  for 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  209 

promotion,  seeks  popularity;  but  I  've  yet  to  learn  that,  though 
the  leopard  may  hide  his  spots,  he  does  therefore  change  them. 
You  ask  for  any  further  developments  regarding  old  fulmen 
primum,  or  chain.  There  are  none  —  he  expects  a  brigade  and 
a  damned  bad  one,  and  I  can  see  clearly  enough  has  the  Brig, 
bee  in  his  bonnet  to  such  a  degree  that  he  don't  care  a  damn  for 
the  regiment  —  for  which  praise  to  the  Lord !  I  heartily  wish 
he  may  get  it,  and  he  has  all  my  influence.  There  are  few 
enough  of  us  left  now,  for  we  don't  boast  a  line  officer  to  each 
company,  and,  of  these,  how  few  are  of  the  desired  stock !  I  am 
the  only  officer  who,  as  such,  has  now  been  with  the  regiment 
in  all  its  campaigns,  marches  and  actions.  I  hold  out  well  — 
am  in  fact  sadly  robust,  thin  and  light.  I  have  never,  since  I 
have  been  in  the  service,  been  nearly  so  well  as  since  the  middle 
of  June.  .  .  . 

Novelists  have  assured  us  for  many  a  century  that  a 
wounded  soldier's  period  of  convalescence  is  peculiarly  danger- 
ous to  his  heart.  Henry  Higginson  proved  to  be  no  exception, 
and  his  engagement  to  Miss  Ida  Agassiz,  in  the  autumn  of 
1863,  was  the  greatest  good  fortune  of  his  life.  From  boy- 
hood he  had  been  fond  of  the  society  of  gracious  and  charming 
women,  and  his  fiancee  was  an  old  friend,  a  member  of  that 
talented  and  happy  Cambridge  circle  which  in  the  eighteen- 
fifties  and  sixties  gave  gayety  to  Quincy  Street. 

Here  lived  Professor  Louis  Agassiz,  radiant  and  magical. 
He  had  arrived  in  Cambridge  in  1846,  leaving  his  delicate, 
gifted  wife,  Cecile  Braun,  at  Carlsruhe,  with  his  two  daughters, 
Pauline  and  Ida,  and  his  boy,  Alexander,  in  Neuchatel.  After 
the  children  had  been  left  motherless  in  1848,  they  joined  their 
father  in  Cambridge.  In  1850  he  married  Miss  Elizabeth  Cabot 
Cary,  daughter  of  Thomas  G.  Cary  and  the  granddaughter 
of  Colonel  T.  Handasyd  Perkins,  the  great  China  merchant, 
who  looked  —  it  was  thought  in  Boston  —  like  the  Duke  of 
Wellington. 
15 


210  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Elizabeth  Cary  was  born  in  her  grandfather's  stately  house 
in  Temple  Place,  then  a  secluded  "court"  after  the  pleasant 
Boston  fashion,  full  of  Perkinses  and  Cabots  and  Gardiners  and 
Carys.  The  transition  from  Temple  Place  to  Professor  Agas- 
siz's  house  in  Oxford  Street,  and  then  in  Quincy  Street,  Cam- 
bridge, was  an  adventure  in  which  Elizabeth  Cary  revealed 
the  rarest  qualities.  Her  "Life  and  Correspondence"  of  her 
famous  husband,  Miss  Lucy  A.  Paton's  "Elizabeth  Cary 
Agassiz,"  and  Mr.  George  R.  Agassiz's  "Letters  and  Recollec- 
tions of  Alexander  Agassiz"  are  three  delightful  biographies, 
picturing  the  Agassiz  household  in  its  early  years. 

By  1863  the  Quincy  Street  home  was  somewhat  changed. 
The  school  for  girls,  begun  in  1855  by  Mrs.  Agassiz,  with  the 
assistance  of  the  professor  and  his  three  children,  had  been 
given  up.  Young  Alexander  Agassiz,  who  had  been  graduated 
from  Harvard  in  1855,  and  was  helping  his  father  in  the  new 
Museum  of  Comparative  Zoology,  had  married  Miss  Anna 
Russell  in  i860,  but  continued  to  live  in  his  father's  house. 
In  November,  1859,  likewise,  his  sister  Pauline  had  married 
Quincy  A.  Shaw  of  Boston,  and  now  his  sister  Ida  was  be- 
trothed to  his  classmate  Henry  Higginson.  But  the  Agassiz 
'  house  continued  to  be  for  many  a  year  the  centre  of  a  truly 
cosmopolitan  culture,  musical,  artistic,  and  literary,  as  well  as 
scientific.  No  other  house  in  Cambridge,  except  Longfellow's 
and  Charles  Eliot  Norton's,  welcomed  so  many  distinguished 
foreign  guests,  or  was  warmed  by  the  fires  of  a  more  friendly 
hospitality.1  It  was  into  this  home  that  Henry  Higginson  was 
now  welcomed  as  a  son. 

Brother  Jim,  writing  from  Libby  Prison  on  October  7, 
pronounced  Henry's  engagement  "the  pleasantest  news  one 
could  have  while  spending  his  days  in  this  wretched  place,  and 
good  enough  to  make  one  cheerful  even  here." 

1  See  President  Eliot's  article,  "The  Agassiz  House  in  Quincy  Street,"  in  the 
Harvard  Alumni  Bulletin  for  March  29,  191 7.  In  January  of  that  year  the  house 
had  been  burned. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  211 

"Allow  me  to  call  your  attention  [he  added  in  a  later  note]  to 
a  most  beautiful  passage  in  Schiller's  '  Das  Lied  von  derGlocke.' 
After  the  young  man  has  rampaged  out  into  the  world,  he  re- 
turns to  his  home,  puts  his  Wanderstab  in  the  corner,  lights  his 
pipe  and  ruminates  —  that 's  the  commencement  of  the  pas- 
sage. The  last  line  runs  thus:  'Die  schone  Zeit  der  jungen 
Liebe'  —  most  admirable  lines.  Don't  they  meet  your  ap- 
proval? Write  to  me,  my  boy —  pity  the  sorrow  of  a  jailbird." 

Henry  Adams's  congratulations  upon  the  engagement, 
written  from  London,  were  highly  characteristic:  — 
,  ' '  Let  me  say  one  word  as  to  your  announcement  to  me.  As  a 
general  principle  and  in  the  most  offensive  sense  of  the  word, 
I  consider  him  who  marries  to  be  an  unmitigated  and  immiti- 
gable ignoramus  and  ruffian.  In  your  particular  case,  however, 
I  incline  to  the  opinion  that  there  are  palliating  circumstances. 
I  have  not  the  honor  of  knowing  Miss  Agassiz,  though  I  have 
an  indistinct  recollection  of  once  seeing  her  somewhere.  But  I 
have  heard  a  great  deal  about  her,  from  an  early  youth,  and 
this  has  induced  me  to  believe  that  she  is  a  person  whom 
weakminded  men  like  you  and  me  instantaneously,  profoundly 
and  irredeemably  adore.  Probably  I  shall  have  some  occasion 
to  tell  her  so  some  day,  if  ever  a  misguided  Providence  permits 
me  to  go  home.  Meanwhile  I  only  hope  that  your  life  won't  be 
such  an  eternal  swindle  as  most  life  is,  and  that,  having  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  a  wife  so  much  above  the  common  run,  you 
will  succeed  in  leading  an  existence  worth  having.  If  I  knew 
your  fiancee,  I  should  congratulate  her  upon  getting  for  a 
husband  one  of  the  curiously  small  number  of  men  whom  I 
ever  have  seen,  for  whom  I  have  morally  a  certain  degree  of 
respect.  This  perhaps  would  n't  be  quite  so  enthusiastic  praise 
as  one  might  give,  but  it's  more  than  I  ever  said  of  anyone  else. 
The  truth  is,  a  good  many  of  my  acquaintances  have  been  get- 
ting engaged  lately,  and  I  believe  yours  is  the  only  case  that 
has  made  me  really,  sincerely  glad  to  hear  about." 

Charles   Lowell,    who   was   now   betrothed    to   Josephine 


212  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

("Erne")  Shaw,  the  sister  of  the  hero  of  Fort  Wagner,  was 
prompt  in  his  felicitations.  He  writes  in  September  from 
camp :  — 

"Henry,  don't  tell  me  about  your  being  happy;  wait  three 
months;  then,  as  you  begin  to  see  how  happiness  grows,  you 
may  begin  to  talk  about  it;  but  you  won't  care  to  talk  about 
it  then,  so  don't  let  me  hear  anything  more  from  you  until  you 
can  write  an  intelligible  letter,  giving  me  your  deliberate 
opinion  on  the  conduct  of  the  war,  and  on  the  best  candidate 
for  the  presidency,  and  on  real  things  generally.  .  .  .  You've 
been  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  me  for  the  last  25  years,  Henry, 
a  great  deal  of  trouble.  Still  I  should  have  been  very  willing  to 
continue  to  take  care  of  you.  Life  has  been  made  such  a  very 
light  burden  to  me  lately,  that  I  feel  as  if  I  could  carry  you 
along  without  much  trouble.  Still,  old  fellow,  I  am  very,  very 
glad,  to  turn  you  over  to  so  much  better  hands.  It  has  been 
a  pleasant  thing  always  to  have  two  such  good  friends,  and 
it  will  be  a  pleasanter  thing  to  know  of  you  now  helping  one 
another  along  in  these  uncomfortable  times." 

Later  in  that  month  he  writes :  — 

"  Did  I  tell  you  that  I  hoped  to  get  a  leave  of  absence  some 
time  about  November  1st?  .  .  . 

"  I  shall  ask  for  twenty  days,  and  shall  try  to  be  married  in 
the  first  five  (one  of  the  first  five,  Henry ;  it  only  takes  one  day) , 
and  I  want  you  to  be  married  on  one  of  the  other  five.  E.  and 
I  would  so  much  like  to  be  at  your  wedding,  old  fellow.  .  .  . 
Of  course  in  these  times,  weddings  are  what  they  should  be, 
quiet,  simple  and  sacred." 

In  October  he  discusses  with  Henry  a  question  pertinent 
to  each  of  them :  — 

"How  could  I  be  married  without  'daily  bread'?  A  perti- 
nent question,  Henry.  There  are  still  ravens,  but  it  does  not 
appear  that  Elijah  ever  taxed  the  powers  of  his  by  marrying. 
...  I  have  nothing,  as  you  know ;  I  am  going  to  marry  upon 
nothing;  I  am  going  to  make  my  wife  as  happy  upon  nothing  as 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  213 

if  I  could  give  her  a  fortune  —  in  that  I  still  have  faith ;  in  that 
one  respect  this  war  is  perhaps  a  personal  Godsend.  '  Daily- 
bread  '  sinks  into  insignificance  by  the  side  of  the  other  more 
important  things  which  the  war  has  made  uncertain;  and  I 
know  now  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  allow  a  possible  want  of 
1  daily  bread '  in  the  future  to  prevent  the  certainty  of  even  a 
month's  happiness  in  the  present." 

Colonel  Lowell  was  married  on  the  last  day  of  October,  and 
his  wife  joined  him  in  camp  at  Vienna,  Virginia.  Late  in 
November,  hearing  that  his  friends  were  to  be  married  in 
Appleton  Chapel,  he  sends  his  benedictions:  — 

"This  is  not  a  letter.  Merely  hearing  how  soon  you  are  to 
be  married,  I  wish  to  express  my  satisfaction  and  give  my  for- 
mal consent.  .  .  .  How  old  are  you ?  To  see  a  fellow  like  you, 
whom  I  've  seen  grow  up  from  an  infant,  go  and  be  married, 
makes  me  feel  very  old.  I  should  like  to  shake  hands  with  you 
and  Mrs.  H.,  even  though  I  had  to  do  it  in  the  College  Chapel. 
.  .  .  You  Ve  always  been  a  good  boy  and  I  'm  fond  of  you." 

The  wedding  —  "quiet,  simple,  and  sacred"  —  was  on 
December  5.  Majorand  Mrs.  Higginson  went  first  to  Waltham, 
where  Mr.  Frank  C.  Lowell  had  placed  his  house  at  their  dis- 
posal. They  spent  Christmas  in  the  Agassiz  home  on  Quincy 
Street,  and  after  visiting  for  a  time  in  Chauncy  Street,  re- 
turned to  Cambridge,  and  with  the  coming  of  spring  went  to 
the  Agassiz  cottage  at  Nahant.  But  the  Major's  recovery  from 
his  wounds  was  very  slow.  He  had  hoped  to  rejoin  his  regi- 
ment by  New  Year's;  but  the  weeks  and  months  crept  by,  and 
he  still  found  himself  unable  to  sit  in  a  saddle  without  great 
pain.  The  entire  year  of  1864,  in  fact,  — with  the  exception 
of  one  stirring  week  before  Petersburg  in  July,  —  was  the  too 
familiar  story  of  hope  deferred. 

Nor  was  the  news  that  reached  him  from  the  regiment  cal- 
culated to  increase  his  comfort.  The  letters  from  his  fellow  of- 
ficers were  affectionate  and  breezy,  but  it  was  evident  that  the 
First  Massachusetts  Cavalry  was  in  a  bad  way.  A  few  of  these 


2i4  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

letters  must  be  quoted  here,  to  show  how  easily  a  crack  regi- 
ment could  be  demoralized  by  lack  of  confidence  in  its  superior 
officers,  and  how  swiftly  the  changes  in  the  public  opinion  of 
the  North  affected  young  officers  at  the  front. 

A  letter  from  Lieutenant-Colonel  Theodore  Lyman,  a  col- 
lege classmate  of 'Higginson's,  now  on  Meade's  staff,  indicates 
that  even  in  November,  1863,  Major  Higginson  was  getting 
worried  over  the  question  of  getting  his  sick  leave  extended. 

Headquarters  Army  of  Potomac,  Nov.  2,  1863. 
My  dear  Hig  :  — 

Your  plea  for  the  wounded  hero  has  duly  been  presented  at 
my  wall  tent. 

I  have,  in  an  indirect  and  discreet  manner,  made  enquiries; 
and  I  find  that  all  officers  who  have  had  more  than  60  days  sick 
leave  are  duly  reported  by  the  Adj.-Gen'l,  but  they  are  not 
reported  to  be  mustered  out.  This  general  order  is  only  used  to 
sponge  off  the  lazy  gentleman,  with  pains  in  the  end  of  the 
little  ringer;  and  I  was  assured  that  the  rule  was  never  en- 
forced in  the  case  of  any  decent  sort  of  an  officer.  Such  are  not 
so  plenty  that  the  department  can  afford  to  cut  them  out. 
Of  course,  if  an  officer  were  away  6  or  8  months,  some  row 
would  be  created;  but  even  then,  I  fancy  that,  upon  good 
reason  shown,  he  would  be  held  on. 

I  have  seen  your  regiment  once  or  twice,  since  I  was  here. 
The  first  time  at  Cedar  Mt.,  where  was  Charlie  Adams  in  a 
state  of  great  despair;  he  had  been  scrimmaging  the  day  be- 
fore, and  had  beheld  no  transportation  for  a  week.  But,  the 
next  time,  he  had  a  new  jacket  on,  and  Adams  was  himself 
again!  I  saw  Col.  Sargent  that  same  time,  but  he  hath  since 
departed  to  the  warmer  realms  of  New  Orleans.  Also  I  saw 
Flint  —  familiarly  known  to  my  college  days  as  "Ducky." 
Our  weather,  just  now,  I  have  every  reason  to  be  satisfied  with ; 
and  in  consequence,  the  men  are  in  great  trim,  so  that  we 
really  feel  as  if  (in  the  classic  words  of  Gen.  Buford)  we  ought 


H.    L.    HIGGINSON    AND   MRS.    HIGGINSON    (1863) 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  215 

"to  boolge  in  on  the  Rebs!"  —  The  cavalry  have  of  late  suf- 
fered severely  from  hoof  disease ;  also  the  artillery ;  but  it  has 
taken  now  a  favorable  turn,  and  is  disappearing. 

While  we  lay  at  Centreville,  Lowell  came  over,  accompan- 
ied by  little  Caspar  Crowninshield.  Both  were  well,  and  so  was 
Willie  Forbes,  who  looked  as  trained  down  as  a  boat-racer. 
Your  chief,  Gen.  Gregg,  I  see  from  time  to  time;  his  eye  hath 
not  changed  its  blue  nor  his  beard  its  length. 

Gen.  Pleasonton  I  see  almost  every  day;  I  was  detached  on 
his  staff,  when  we  drove  the  Rebs  over  the  Rapidan,  and  he 
treated  me  very  handsomely. 

Gen.  Buford,  too,  comes  often  to  headqr's.  He  is  the  prime 
favorite  of  your  "cavalry  bucks";  and  indeed  has  a  mighty 
good  horse-head. 

0  Lord !  I  wish  I  had  an  honorable  shot,  that  was  n't  dan- 
gerous and  would  take  a  long  time  to  heal! 

With  many  remembrances  to  Ida 

Always  yrs. 

Theodore  Lyman. 

By  January  it  is  apparent  that  Captain  C.  F.  Adams  is 
again  "in  a  state  of  great  despair." 

Camp  of  ist  Massachusetts  Cavalry 
Warrenton,  Va.,  Jan.  $th,  '64. 
Dear  Major:  — 

A  long  time  ago,  at  a  time  when  nights  on  duty  were  not 
wholly  intolerable,  I  got  a  kind  letter  from  you  by  the  hand  of 
your  immanuensis  [sic],  now,  I  hear,  Mrs.  Major.  And  by  the 
way,  remember  me  most  kindly  to  her,  and  I  hope  before  the 
winter  is  over  to  pay  my  respects  in  person. 

1  shan't  in  this  letter  go  into  business  or  regimental  details  — 
things  here  are  bad,  very  bad,  and  this  regiment  must  have  a 
head  and  that  soon,  or,  it  is  "done  gone  up."  It  would  make 
you  weep  to  come  down  and  see  us  now  —  three  months  of 


216  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

drifting  have  done  their  work  very  thoroughly,  and  we  are 
no  more  what  we  have  been  than  you  are  yourself.  I  regret  to 
say  that  all  my  fears  of  incompetence  in  those  who  have 
temporarily  been  in  command,  are  more  than  justified  —  we 
have  been  drifting,  drifting,  drifting,  running  steadily  down- 
hill for  three  months  past.  I  have  been,  and  now  am,  most 
anxious  to  get  home  to  see  you  and  Curtis  about  matters  be- 
fore it  was  too  late,  and  I  hope  yet  to  do  so.  Meanwhile,  I  do 
not  myself  know  what  to  advise;  the  more  of  an  up-turning 
we  now  have,  the  better  —  and  my  great  hope  is  to  get  the 
regiment  home:  should  we  do  so  and  there  reorganize,  there  is 
plenty  of  stuff  left  in  the  regiment  down  in  the  ranks,  and 
there  will  yet  be  a  hope  for  us.  About  the  new  battalion  I 
have  nothing  to  say  —  but  on  it  I  imagine  our  fate  hinges. 

One  thing  I  am  clear  on  —  it  must  n't  be  commanded  by  S , 

unless  Curtis 1  or  yourself  or  Chamberlain  are  sure  of  coming 
back  and  staying  with  us.  .  .  . 

Within  a  month  Adams,  much  broken  in  health,  had  secured 
leave  of  absence,  and  went  for  a  brief  visit  to  England.  Just 
before  sailing  he  sent  this  note  to  Higginson :  — 

Boston,  Feby.  2nd,  '64. 
Dear  Major:  — 

Enclosed  you  will  find  the  paper  which  I  discussed  with  you. 
Of  course  I  am  prepared  to  stand  by  it,  but,  at  the  same  time, 
as  you  must  see,  it  brings  on  the  bitter  issue  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned.   If  it  is  used,  S or  I  must  leave  the  regiment.    I 

sail  to-morrow  and  shall  be  gone  until  the  whole  thing  is  over 
and  settled.  I  leave  it  and  myself  wholly  in  the  hands  of  Cur- 
tis, yourself  and  my  brother;  I  earnestly  hope  that,  while  you 
effect  something,  things  will  not  eternally  smash  for  us  and 
the  regiment.  Pray  do  not  use  these  papers  unnecessarily  and, 
if  they  must  be  used,  I  should  wish  S and  C to  know 

1  Greely  Curtis  had  now  married  Miss  Harriet  Appleton,  and  was  about  to  go 
abroad  in  search  of  health. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  217 

all  I  have  written.   I  want  to  stab,  if  I  must  stab,  —  hard,  — 
but  not  in  the  back. 


•      • 


A  letter  from  Adams  written  shortly  after  his  return  con- 
tinues the  story :  — 

H.Q.  Cav'y  Escort  A.  of  P. 
Monday,  2d  May  '64. 

Dear  Major  :  — 

Yours  of  the  25th  reached  me  some  days  ago.  I  must  say 
I  read  it  with  considerable  feeling  and  if,  as  should  be  the 
case,  the  approbation  and  strong  sympathy  of  those  who, 
knowing  best,  are  best  able  to  judge,  is  most  valuable,  you 
have  all  mine.  You  have  acted  disinterestedly  and  gener- 
ously —  only  as  I  knew  you  would  act  though.  More  was 
asked  of  you,  and  has  been  asked  of  you,  throughout  all  this 
wretched  business  than  ever  should  have  been  asked  of  a 
wounded  officer,  and  you  have  always  been  equal  to  the  occa- 
sion. I  hope  it  may  be  some  satisfaction  to  you  to  know  that 
one  person  at  least  was  up  to  an  appreciation  of  such  a  course 
in  another.  Be  assured  my  good  word  will  not  be  wanting 
whenever  and  wherever  your  name  may  be  mentioned. 

As  to  results.  I  cannot  regret  anything  that  I  have  done, 
though  I  do  wish  it  had  not  been  my  ill  fortune  to  be  mixed 
up  in  such  a  miserable  personal  matter.  I  acted  for  the  best 
and  according  to  my  sense  of  what  I  ought  to  do  for  the  regi- 
ment —  as  regardless  of  myself  as  I  was  of  S or  anyone 

else.  I  did  n't  want  promotion  for  myself,  I  honestly  think, 
but  I  did  want  to  see  the  regiment  have  a  head,  and  a  sane 
one  at  that;  and,  if  others  thought  that  I  could  best  meet  the 
issue  at  the  moment  it  had  to  be  made,  I  did  n't  consider  that 
I  should  allow  what  Mrs.  Grundy  would  say  to  prevent  my 
taking  a  place,  which  I  felt  someone  ought  to  take.  God 
knows  I  never  wanted  to  interfere  with  you  or  Greely,  but  I 

1 1  do  not  know  whether  "the  paper"  was  ever  presented  to  Governor  Andrew. 
On  his  return  from  England  in  April,  Adams's  squadron  was  transferred  to  the 
Headquarters  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  he  never  rejoined  the  old  regiment. 


218  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

did  feel  that,  if  the  necessities  of  the  regiment  called  for  it, 

you,  Greely,  S ,  or  myself  should  be  jumped  or  anything 

else. 

For  the  future  I  am  not  going  to  express  myself  in  any  way 
about  the  regiment.  When  you  say  that  "the  old  corps  no 
longer  exists,"  you  don't  yourself  know  how  true  your  remark 
is.  A  lower- toned,  more  vulgar  regiment  than  ours  now  is  I 
never  saw,  and  the  deterioration  since  I  left  it  in  Jany.  is  to 
me  amazing.  The  officers  are  such  as  I  had  never  imagined 
that  we  should  see,  and  mine  here  (Teague,  and  your  old  buyer 
Baldwin)  are  actually  afraid  to  tell  me  of  the  style  of  conversa- 
tion, manners,  amusements  and  language  indulged  in  in  the 
regiment.  Will  Chamberlain  succeed  in  reforming  this?  I 
don't  know.  .  .  .  You  must  consider  me  a  very  rash  or  ambi- 
tious man.  Meanwhile,  I  don't  mean  to  commit  myself  to 
anything.  I  am  very  happy  and  comfortable  here,  and,  if  all 
goes  well,  will  in  two  months  have  the  finest  squadron  of  cav- 
alry in  the  whole  Army.  My  men  are  contented  and  cheerful 
and  my  officers  are  satisfied  and  only  grumble  when  they  get 
on  their  wrongs  in  the  regiment;  if  they  send  me  any  black- 
guard from  the  regiment  I  will  court-martial  him.  I  do  wish  I 
could  get  Jim  with  me,  but  I  have  no  vacancy  on  either  of  my 
rolls;  still  I  shall  try  to  do  something  for  him  when  I  see 
Chamberlain.1  With  Chamberlain  I  mean  to  have  a  clear  and 
honest  understanding  —  I  cannot  and  will  not  go  back  to  the 

regiment  with  S my  senior,  and  continually  likely  to  be 

in  command. 

Now  a  word  or  two  of  your  future.  Your  treatment  has  been 
such,  being  jumped  by  Chamberlain,  that  I  do  not  think  you 
are  called  on  either  to  resign  or  to  go  back  to  the  regiment, 

1  Chamberlain,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  the  former  Cambridge  fireman.  By 
the  time  Adams  wrote  his  Autobiography,  he  had  formed  a  higher  estimate  of  Cham- 
berlain's capacity.  "A  large,  rough,  self-made  man,  he  had  been  wild  and  adven- 
turous in  his  youth,  serving  as  a  trooper  in  the  Mexican  war.  Wholly  lacking  in 
refinement  and  education,  he  was  a  dashing  fellow  in  his  way;  and  on  the  whole,  I 
fancy,  the  best  officer  that  regiment  ever  had."  — Autobiography,  p.  155. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  219 

unless  you  choose.  I  would  hold  my  rank,  and  if  possible,  get 
put  on  some  staff.  Could  not  Frank  Barlow  help  you?  Could 
not  Major  Williams?  Do  not  however  go  back  to  the  regiment. 
With  Chamberlain  in  command  you  would  not  only  be  un- 
happy there,  but  useless.  .  .  . 

Yours  etc. 

Charles  F.  Adams,  Jr. 

In  the  meantime  Colonel  Henry  S.  Russell,  Higginson's 
former  comrade  in  the  Second  Massachusetts  and  now  organ- 
izing the  Fifth  Massachusetts  Cavalry  at  Readville,  was 
anxious  to  secure  Major  Higginson  as  lieutenant-colonel  of 
the  new  regiment.  An  undated  note  from  Readville  explains 
the  situation. 

Dear  Henry:  — 

Yesterday  morning  the  Governor  spoke  about  your  regi- 
ment —  saying  that  you  wanted  someone  put  over  you  in 
1st  Cavalry;  and  represented  that  Major  Chamberlain  would 
be  acceptable  to  all  in  the  regiment,  as  he  would,  I  suppose, 
from  all  accounts.  The  Governor  asked  me  whom  I  should 
like  for  Lt.  Col.,  and  I  said  you;  he  said  that,  if  you  could  not 
take  the  field  with  the  1st,  you  probably  could  not  with  the 
5th,  and  spoke  of  Charley  Adams  as  a  good  person  for  it.  I 
told  him  I  liked  Adams,  but  was  sorry  about  you.  Now, 
Henry,  I  should  prefer  you  to  anybody  else  and  I  wish  you 
would  at  once  take  steps  about  it;  what  kind  of  position  can 
we  take  to  oppose  the  Governor's  theory  that,  if  you  are  not 
well  enough  for  one,  you  are  not  for  the  other?  I  am  sincere 
in  what  I  say;  I  would  rather  be  without  any  Lt.  Col.  for  many 
months,  if  I  can  have  you  in  the  end.  I  shall  write  to  the 
Governor  to-night  and  tell  him  more  strongly  how  I  feel ;  but 
I  hope  you  will  post  me  in  the  facts  as  to  your  health. 

Love  to  Ida.  Sincerely, 

H.  S.  R. 


220  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

A  second  note  from  Colonel  Russell  followed  on  May  5 :  — 

Dear  Henry:  — 

Whatever  the  Governor  does  about  the  Lt.  Col.  of  5th  Cav., 
I  know  that  he  is  actuated  by  his  desire  to  help  the  regiment 
in  this  hour  of  trial ;  I  wish  you  were  ready  for  work,  for  then 
there  would  be  no  hesitation. 

1st  battalion  (mounted)  left  this  morning,  2nd  goes  to- 
morrow probably,  and  3rd  on  Sunday. 

Very  sincerely 

H.  S.  Russell. 

Why  won't  you  call  on  the  Governor  at  once?  H. 

While  Major  Higginson  was  hesitating,  and  daily  trying  his 
strength  in  the  saddle,  the  indications  of  dissatisfaction  in  the 
First  Cavalry  were  accumulating.  "I  feel  as  if  I  had  been 
treated  like  a  dog,"  writes  Captain  Pelham  Curtis.  "I  wish 
you  were  here  to  take  command."  Captain  Channing  Clapp, 
whose  promotion  to  the  lieutenant-colonelcy  was  being  urged 
by  Higginson,  writes  that  he  thinks  both  Higginson's  and 
Adams's  claims  to  promotion  are  greater  than  his  own. 
Finally  Chamberlain  got  the  promotion.  Channing  Clapp 
writes : — 

"...  You  are  right  about  its  not  being  the  same  Regt.  as 
formerly.  Ned  Dalton,  who  is  now  Medical  Director  of  the 
A.O.P.,  spent  several  nights  with  me  lately  and  he  told  a 
pitiful  story  of  the  condition  of  things  —  he  had  just  inspected 
it  and  noticed  the  great  difference  at  once  without  speaking  of 
it  first.  Motley  and  Adams  are  both  trying  to  get  out  —  and 
Adams  would  not  have  gone  back  had  his  squadron  not  been 
detached.  ..." 

The  Campaign  of  the  Wilderness  was  now  opening,  and 
Major  Higginson,  though  able  to  ride  only  a  few  miles  at  a 
walk,  could  not  be  kept  from  the  front  any  longer.  "A  staff 
appointment  is  pretty,"  Greely  Curtis  writes  from  Paris,  "and, 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  221 

the  war  lasting,  I  intend  to  try  for  one.  So  had  you."  Adams, 
too,  had  written:  "Could  not  Frank  Barlow  help  you?"  And 
it  was  "Frank  Barlow"  of  Cambridge,  the  brilliant  scholar  of 
Harvard  '55,  who  had  enlisted  as  a  private  and  was  now  a 
brigadier-general  in  the  Second  Corps,  who  gave  him  his  chance. 
There  is  a  grim  note  of  dissuasion  from  Henry  R.  Dalton, 
penciled  hastily  from  the  battlefield  of  Cold  Harbor :  — 

Hdqrs.  ist  Div.  6  Corps,  June  6,  1864. 
Coal  [sic]  Harbor,  Va. 
My  dear  Major  :  — 

Your  kind  note  of  the  24th  May  I  received  yesterday.  I  am 
afraid  I  can  give  you  no  encouragement  hereabouts,  at  present 
anyhow,  for  we  are  mixed  up  very  much.  ...  I  can  hardly 
write  more  now,  as  we  are  lying  in  line  of  battle  within  100 
yards  of  the  enemy,  and  liable  any  instant  to  open  or  be  opened 
upon. 

Good  luck  to  you  and  yours.  I  advise  you  not  to  hurry 
back  here.  Sincerely, 

Henry  R.  Dalton. 

But  at  last  came  the  cheery  summons  from  his  classmate, 
telling  of  the  staff  appointment :  — 

Hdqrs.  ist  Div.,  2nd  Corps, 
July  4th,  1864. 

My  dear  Major  :  — 

Your  note  and  the  order  of  the  War  Dept.  came  to-day. 

Come  on.    I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you. 

I  have  just  had  a  pleasant  talk  with  Henry  Dalton,  who  is 
about  the  only  savory  morsel  I  see. 

Theodore  came  over  yesterday  conducting  a  new  lamb  (one 
Sedgwick1)  to  the  slaughter,  i.e.,  the  20th  Mass.  Vols. 

Truly  in  haste,  F.  C.  B. 

1  Lieutenant  Arthur  G.  Sedgwick,  of  Stockbridge. 


222  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Two  days  later,  the  invalid  Major  started  South.  Mrs. 
Higginson  accompanied  him  as  far  as  New  York,  and  in 
Philadelphia  he  rested  with  his  old  friend  John  W.  Field. 
Early's  cavalry  was  making  its  well-nigh  successful  raid  on 
Washington,  and  the  railroad  was  cut  both  north  and  south 
of  Baltimore.  He  managed  to  reach  Baltimore  on  July  12, 
and  offered  his  services  to  General  Ord  in  reorganizing  the 
stragglers  from  the  Union  army.  But  by  the  14th  he  was  in 
Washington,  and  found  his  servant  Spencer  waiting  for  him 
with  his  favorite  horse,  "Piggy." 

The  enemy  could  easily  have  taken  the  city  either  Sunday 
or  Monday  [he  wrote  to  his  wife],  but  say  nothing  of  this.  .  .  . 
Now  I  am  going  to  the  Armory  Square  Hospital,  waiting  for 
Anna  Lowell.  An  umbrella  marked  J.  S.,  a  very  pretty  hat  of 
brown  and  white  mixed  straw  trimmed  with  a  brown  ribbon 
and  a  little  black  net  veil  about  it,  is  lying  on  the  bookcase 
near  by  and  indicates  that  Effie l  is  here,  though  not  in  theward 
this  minute.  Everything  looks  as  nice  as  possible  —  each  bed 
covered  with  a  high  net  to  keep  off  the  flies  —  a  few  books  are 
on  the  bookcase  and  remind  me  that  I  might  have  sent  some 
of  our  useless  —  I  mean  to  say  "unused"  —  books  to  this 
hospital.  The  men  look  as  comfortable  as  possible  under  the 
circumstances,  but  it  is  bad  at  best.  .  .  . 

On  the  1 8th  he  started  by  steamer  down  the  Potomac,  pass- 
ing at  night  Point  Lookout,  where  his  brother  Frank  was 
stationed,  and  hoping  to  meet  at  City  Point  his  brother  James, 
who  had  been  exchanged  from  Libby  Prison,  and  was  now  with 
Adams's  squadron  at  the  Headquarters  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac.  At  City  Point  he  was  welcomed  by  his  classmate 
Dr.  Edward  B.  Dalton,2  who  had  been  selected  by  Grant  to 

1  Josephine  Shaw  Lowell,  wife  of  Colonel  C.  R.  Lowell,  who  was  now  in  pur 
suit  of  Early's  retreating  cavalry,  and  "winning  golden  opinions  from  everybody." 

2  Dalton's  name  is  on  the  Soldiers  Field  monument  erected  by  Major  Higgin- 
son, together  with  the  names  of  James  Savage,  C.  R.  Lowell,  S.  G.  Perkins,  J.  J. 
Lowell,  and  R.  G.  Shaw. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  223 

take  charge  of  the  great  camp  of  10,000  sick  and  wounded 
men. 

"Barlow,  Channing  Clapp,  and  Charles  Adams  all  dined 
here,"  the  Major  writes  on  July  21,  "and  were  very  pleasant 
indeed.  I  go  to  Barlow  this  morning  and  shall  then  see  how 
much  I  can  do.  He  has  been  made  by  Dalton  fully  to  under- 
stand how  little  can  be  expected  of  me." 

On  July  22  he  quotes  Dr.  Dalton's  professional  opinion:  — 

I  should  tell  you  of  Ned  Dalton's  opinion  about  my  under- 
taking to  serve  at  all.  He  considers  that  the  abscess  was  a 
very  serious  matter  and  that  it  may  on  a  slight  provocation 
return,  its  track  having  been  already  plainly  marked  out.  An 
abscess  of  this  kind  is  very  difficult  to  stop,  and  is  very  wasting 
to  the  patient,  leaving  often  the  tissues  destroyed  or  injured. 
He  thinks  me  very  unwise  even  to  try  the  experiment,  as  it  is 
impossible  to  ascertain  the  limit  of  my  capacity  to  do  and  to 
bear,  until  the  mischief  is  done.  There  is  the  opinion  of  a  truly 
conscientious  and  able  surgeon,  the  man  whom  I  should  trust 
above  them  all.  I  told  him  that  I  would  go  to  Barlow  and  try 
very  gently  for  a  short  time.  .  .  .  Jimmy  is  not  looking  well  at 
all  nor  feeling  well ;  not  a  bit  better  than  when  at  home. 

A  few  lines  from  the  Major's  daily  letters  follow. 

July  23.   Camp  near  Petersburg. 

What  we  are  to  do  here,  no  one  knows,  but  I  have  great  faith 
in  our  general.  We  were  ordered  out  this  morning  at  4^  o'clk 
on  fatigue  work,  i.e.  digging,  and  stayed  until  dark. 

...  So  I  arose,  drank  a  cup  of  tea,  ate  a  cracker  or  two  on 
the  way  out,  and  thus  began  a  tiresome  day  cheerlessly  enough. 
We  rode  about  the  works  with  the  General,  and  then  lay  off  in 
the  woods,  occasionally  taking  a  look  at  the  progress  made  by 
our  men.  We  also  went  up  outside  our  lines  and  looked  for  a 
few  minutes  at  the  rebel  lines,  they  being  about  a  quarter  of  a 


224  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

mile  from  us.  Their  works  are  very  strong  and  so  are  ours  — 
the  pickets  lie  outside,  behind  low  breastworks  of  logs  and 
earth.  More  to-morrow  of  this.  It  is  my  first  day's  work  and  a 
very  easy  one,  but  I  am  pretty  tired  to-night.  I  am  not  the 
tough  fellow  that  I  was.  .   .  . 

July  24,  Sunday. 
We  started  from  camp  at  \\  o'clk  a.m.,  and  came  back  at 
7^  o'clk  p.m.  It  was  a  tedious  day.  We  lay  off  and  rode 
around  the  works  alternately.  .  .  .  Riding  back,  I  overtook 
General  Meade  and  that  French  officer,  Theodore  Lyman 
and  a  couple  of  the  staff  being  behind  them.  I  rode  with 
Theodore  a  short  distance  and  had  a  nice  little  chat  with  him. 
...  Of  General  Meade  I  got  little  idea,  as  he  hardly  turned 
round ;  he  commands  the  respect  of  his  men  and  of  his  officers 
in  this  army  far  more  than  its  former  commanders,  I  fancy. 
He  himself  has  moved,  and  has  fought  his  four  corps,  the  2d, 
5th,  6th,  and  9th  throughout  the  campaign,  and  has  done  it 
admirably.  He  is  said  to  be  very  irascible  and  often  cross  with 
his  staff.  General  Grant  has  his  headquarters  near  City  Point, 
as  Genl.  Butler's  command,  the  10th,  18th,  and  19th  Corps  are 
nearer  that  point.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  mystery  about 
internal  matters  generally.  Peace  reigns  between  Grant  and 
Meade,  but  no  one  knows  farther.  Butler  was  to  have  been 
ordered  away  at  one  time,  but  he  is  still  here.  He  and  Smith 
did  not  pull  together,  I  suppose.  If  anyone  interferes  with 
General  Grant,  I  wish  and  believe  that  he  would  crush  him. 
.  .  .  Barlow  has  told  me  a  good  deal  of  his  ideas  about 
managing  men  and  about  the  merits  and  success  of  officers  — 
general  officers,  especially.  He  lives  with  his  division,  goes  to  a 
piece  of  work  or  to  a  fight  with  them  —  sees  that  they  have 
nice,  clean,  uniform  camps,  that  they  are  well  cared  for,  that 
they  are  well  placed  and  advantageously  moved  in  a  fight.  In 
short  he  minds  his  work  thoro'ly,  and  this  he  considers  the 
secret  of  success,  common  sense  being  granted.  There  is  a 
General  Miles  whom  he  selected  as  his  Lieut. -Colonel  long 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  225 

since,  and  who  has  been  promoted  this  summer.  He  is,  in 
Barlow's  opinion,  one  of  the  best  generals  whom  he  knows. 
Miles  is  a  young  man,  rather  uneducated  and  formerly  a  shop- 
boy  in  a  crockeryware  shop  in  Boston.  He  has  a  good  deal  of 
character,  as  one  sees  from  his  face,  and  is  very  soldierly  and 
very  brave.  This,  united  with  energy  and  with  common  sense 
sharpened  by  experience  in  this  line,  has  given  him  his  brigade. 

No  great  mental  powers  are  needed  to  manoeuvre  a  brigade 
of  infantry  (of  not  more  than  1500  men)  when  in  plain  sight. 
The  difficulty  of  the  problem  increases  as  the  numbers  in- 
crease, and  therefore  it  happens  that  many  a  man  can  handle  a 
brigade  admirably,  who  can  do  nothing  with  a  corps  or  even  a 
division.  Barlow  was  telling  me  the  other  day  what  geese  we 
fellows  were  to  go  into  a  regiment  so  well-officered  as  our  best 
Mass.  regiments  (more  especially  into  a  mounted  regiment), 
if  we  expected  any  promotion.  .  .  .  Certainly  the  young  men 
whom  we  have  known  at  home  had  more  ability  and  more 
character  than  those  one  often  meets  here  —  and  they  were 
and  are  much  more  conscientious  in  the  performance  of  their 
duties.  We  all  should  have  gained  in  rank,  and  lost  in  pleas- 
ant companionship  and  associations  by  following  Barlow's 
example.  .  .  . 

My  bay  horse  can  carry  me  more  miles  than  I  can  ride,  the 
beggar.  He  is  about  the  best  horse  that  I  ever  saw,  so  kind,  so 
strong,  so  fast,  so  courageous,  so  enduring,  I  am  delighted  with 
him,  and  hope  to  take  him  home  with  me  whenever  that  may 
be.  It  is  raining  hard,  and  to-morrow  will  see  us  busily  engaged 
digging,  I  fear.  My  back  aches  to-night  —  confound  it!  I 
have  been  reading  the  "Acts"  this  afternoon,  and  thinking 
of  you  all. 

July  25. 

General  Burnside  does  not  seem  to  stand  very  high  with  this 
army.  He  is  a  good  man,  but  not  great.  Sedgwick  was  the  best 
corps  commander  ever  in  this  army,  I  fancy ;  and  now  we  have 
lost  McPherson,  one  of  the  very  ablest  men  in  the  western 

16 


226  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

army.  ...  I  have  been  reading  Shakespeare's  Henry  VI,  1st 
and  2d  parts,  and  was  shocked  to  find  what  vulgar  nonsense  he 
has  written  about  Joan  of  Arc.  It  is  too  bad,  and  I  have  al- 
ways been  inclined  to  adore  her.  But  he  depicts  very  well 
Henry  VI's  weakness  and  goodness,  as  well  as  the  vicious 
character  of  his  Queen  Margaret.  My  chief  knowledge  of 
English  history  comes  from  Shakespeare;  but  as  great  works 
these  parts  of  Henry  VI  seem  to  me  inferior  to  many  of  the 
historical  plays.  .  .  .  Do  you  know  that  I  found  Effie  had 
read  Mill's  "Political  Economy"  three  times  this  winter? 

These  people  near  Washington  get  very  tired  indeed  of  the 
war;  it  seems  to  them  endless.  That  peace  conference  at  Niag- 
ara Falls  is  a  strange  affair;  we  can  have  no  peace  until  they 
are  willing  to  yield  the  question  of  slavery  entirely.  I  think 
that  both  parties  would  feel  better  if  we  took  Richmond  and 
Atlanta  before  a  peace.  But  any  compromise  would  be  horrid ; 
and  I  don't  believe  that  the  President  will  think  of  any. 

The  enemy  have  just  begun  their  evening  salute ;  they  usu- 
ally fire  a  few  shells  at  us,  and  we  return  the  compliment  about 
6  P.M. 

July  28.    North  Side  of  the  James. 

I  had  just  begun  this  date  when  the  General l  sent  for  me, 
and  told  me  that  his  wife  was  dead.  She  has  been  quite  ill,  but 
he  had  been  informed  not  dangerously  so  —  very  likely  with 
truth.  Not  improbably  it  was  a  sudden  turn  in  the  disease. 
He  applied  immediately  for  leave  to  go  to  Washington  (where 
she  died),  but  was  refused  it,  altho'  General  Hancock  endorsed 
it.  So  he  was  forced  to  return  to  his  command  and  has  been  at 
work  all  day.  He  was  very  sad  indeed  about  it,  broke  down 
utterly  this  morning.  Poor  fellow!  it  is  a  dreadful  blow  to 
him,  —  for  he  and  his  wife  were  evidently  wrapped  up  in  each 
other,  —  and  totally  unexpected.  He  intended  to  take  me 
with  him.  We  are  in  the  midst  of  a  movement  and  the  com- 
manding officer  decided  that  the  leave  could  not  be  granted 

1  Barlow. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  227 

to-day.  Possibly  it  may  be  granted  to-morrow,  in  which  case  I 
may  or  may  not  go  with  him. 

We  left  our  camp  at  4  o'clk  p.m.  Tuesday  and  marched 
until  3  o'clk  a.m.  over  the  James  River.  There  we  rested 
until  4  o'clk,  when  we  got  into  position  and  soon  after  at- 
tacked the  enemy  with  a  skirmish  line,  which  took  a  line  of  pits 
and  four  guns  and  caissons  to  match.  It  was  very  suddenly 
and  well  done.  Then  we  advanced  and  accomplished  nothing 
all  day  long.  There  was  firing  along  the  skirmish  line  all  day 
long  and  to-day  it  is  the  same  thing,  but  except  a  little  cavalry 
fight  in  which  our  cavalry  whipped  the  rebel  infantry,  taking 
200  to  300  prisoners,  there  is  nothing  done.  I  saw  Arthur 
Sedgwick  tramping  along  with  his  regiment  as  they  went  to  the 
front,  and  shook  hands  with  him.  He  looked  well  tho'  weary. 
Subsequently  the  20th  went  out  to  the  skirmish  line,  and  is  out 
a  few  hundred  yards  from  us  popping  away  at  the  rebels.  .  .  . 
It  is  now  five  o'clk,  and  we  are  about  to  fall  back,  I  believe. 
Whatever  was  intended,  nothing  of  moment  has  been  ac- 
complished. You  never  saw  anything  like  the  delays  and  the 
slowness  of  movements.  It  is  disheartening.  Perhaps  we  have 
accomplished  our  work  in  making  a  way  for  the  cavalry  to  get 
out  on  some  errand.  We  do  get  so  tired  and  so  aching. 

The  next  day  General  Barlow  was  granted  fifteen  days' 
leave,  and  as  he  could  not  bear  to  be  alone,  he  begged  Major 
Higginson  to  return  to  Boston  with  him.  Thus  they  missed 
the  spectacular  but  futile  explosion  of  the  Petersburg  mine  on 
July  30. 

By  August  4  Higginson  was  back  in  Washington,  but  it 
was  only  too  plain  that  he  himself  was  unfit  for  further  active 
service.  He  turned  wearily  homeward  with  his  brother  James 
and  resigned  from  the  army.1    "Perhaps  by  Saturday,"  he 

1  He  had  been  only  six  days  at  the  actual  front.  Yet,  when  he  received  the  grade 
of  Brevet  Lieutenant-Colonel,  U.S.A.,  on  March  13,  1865,  it  was  "for  gallant 
and  meritorious  service  during  the  war,  and  especially  in  the  campaign  of  1864 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac." 


228  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

writes  his  wife  on  August  1 1 ,  "I  shall  drop  my  buttons  and  ap- 
pear in  black  and  gray." 

Black  and  gray  enough  was  the  mood  of  the  North  in  that 
midsummer  of  1864.  Grant's  campaign  against  Petersburg 
had  failed.  Sherman,  with  the  Western  Army,  had  marched 
off  toward  the  southeast,  no  one  knew  whither.  Peace  talk 
was  heard  everywhere.  "Mr.  Lincoln  is  already  beaten," 
wrote  Horace  Greeley  on  August  18;  and  the  platform  of  the 
Democratic  Convention,  eleven  days  later,  contained  the 
famous  phrase  "after  four  years  of  failure." 

Greely  Curtis  had  written  from  Paris  in  June:  — 
"...  I  should  like  very  much  to  know  what  you  (or  any 
other  man  whom  i"  know)  think  of  passing  events  and  to  what 
tending.  We  always  receive  such  distorted  news  at  first 
through  the  telegraph  that  one  never  can  believe  it.  The  tele- 
grams to  the  London  'Times'  I  hope  will  be  collected  and 
published  after  the  war  as  representing  the  sort  of  news  the 
'Times'  readers  like  to  have  put  before  them.  I  have  got 
tired  of  going  up  to  the  banker's  and  trying  to  keep  lily-livered 
men  from  believing  everything  is  for  the  bad.  We  all  go  there 
to  get  the  first  telegraphic  news,  and  as  they  come  in  there  is 
a  deal  of  croaking.  There  is  one  to-day  saying  that  Grant  at- 
tacked on  the  1 8th  (of  May)  —  a  general  assault,  entirely 
repulsed,  after  many  hours  hard  fighting,  loss  1200  killed 
and  wounded.  It  is  vain  to  tell  the  sapheads  that  after  a  gen- 
eral assault  and  many  hours  hard  fighting  the  loss  would  be 
counted  in  thousands  not  in  hundreds.  No,  the  'Times'  says 
we  have  been  licked,  etc.,  etc. 

"As  for  me  myself  I  don't  know  exactly  what  to  think.  I 
fully  believe  in  the  justice  of  our  cause  and  yet  I  do  not  feel 
confident  that,  as  the  main  rascality  Slavery  has  been  over- 
thrown, we  of  the  North  will  be  permitted  to  conquer  the  South 
and  hold  it.  Don't  jump  up  and  say  I'm  a  croaker  like  the 
rest.  I  have  never  permitted  that  idea  to  leave  my  pen  or  lips 
before,  but  of  late  I  have  been  thinking  that,  as  in  all  great 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  229 

national  convulsions,  after  the  great  cause  is  removed,  by  un- 
foreseen ways  generally,  the  struggle  is  over.  So  now  I  should 
not  find  it  hard  to  believe  that  with  the  death  of  Slavery  our 
work  is  finished.  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  wise  to  give  up  at 
the  end  of  this  campaign,  if  unsuccessful,  but  I  am  afraid  the 
people  will.  At  any  rate  we  can  form  some  opinion  about  it 
when  the  draft  is  put  in  operation.  ...  I  am  in  strong  hopes 
however  that  Grant  is  to  be  successful  and  that  these  are  but 
the  dying  flurries  of  the  Confederacy  —  of  course  it  must  die 
hard." 

Writing  again  on  July  21  from  Lucerne,  Colonel  Curtis 
makes  some  vigorous  remarks  about  Boston  copperheads :  — 

"  I  get  very  mad  with  the  traitors  who  live  in  security  in 
Boston  and  elsewhere  and  who  really  kill  more  men  in  the  front 
than  the  same  number  of  graybacks  do.  I  really  am  getting  to 
believe  that  a  little  powder  burned  in  Boston  and  New  York 
would  be  the  most  economical  expenditure  —  that  is  to  say, 
when  a  damned  scoundrel  talks  his  treason,  let  some  American 
treat  him  as  an  enemy  deserves  to  be  treated  in  time  of  war. 
Could  n't  the  healthy  practice  of  shooting  be  brought  a  little 
distance  to  the  rear? 

"The  idea  has  been  growing  in  my  mind  that  if  a  club  of 
young  men  could  be  found  whose  object  would  be  to  stamp  out 

such  rascals  as  X and  Co.  it  would  be  good  —  to  make 

social  treason  dangerous,  to  taboo  men  in  business  and  every 
way  who  are  really  cutting  our  throats.  When  such  fellows  as 

Y (why  did  he  ever  disgrace  our  flag  and  us  by  prating  at 

Brook  Farm),  when  fellows  of  that  kidney  maunder  about  the 
liberty  of  speech,  let  them  know  it  has  its  responsibilities,  and 
if  they  don't  choose  to  incur  the  one  they  must  n't  indulge  the 
other.  I  remember  a  small  case  in  point  in  my  own  experience, 
but  I  think  the  rule  holds  good  anywhere.  A  fellow  said  some- 
thing about  me  which  was  libelous.  I  spoke  mildly  to  him  and 
asked  him  what  he  meant.  He  was  a  modern  stickler  for  lib- 
erty (of  speech),  and  said  that  he  had  a  right  to  say  what  he 
chose.  I  assented  and  added  that  he  had  also  the  right  to  take  a 


230  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

flogging  for  saying  it  —  which  he  at  once  got.  Now  that  is  ex- 
actly what  I  wish  to  see  inaugurated  in  Boston.  Let  men  pay 
for  their  antagonism  to  the  country.  I  believe  in  the  French 
revolution  of  '92.  I  accept  all  its  hangings,  drownings,  guillo- 
tinings,  and  everything  else.  Of  course  it  was  dreadful,  but 
then  you  can't  play  at  revolution,  and  it  resulted  in  the  happi- 
ness of  20  millions  instead  of  their  previous  utter  and  starving 
misery.  Those  men  meant  to  be  fair  and  were  straining  every 
nerve  to  fight  foreign  enemies.  The  bloody  manner  in  which 
they  disposed  of  domestic  treason  was  most  thorough.  To  be 
suspected  of  treason  was  death.  Now  I  say  that  is  just  right.  I 
would  n't  have  said  it  two  years  ago,  but  I  think  so  now.  What 
is  done  in  Boston  to  the  man  who  talks  open  treason?  He  is 
called  a  copperhead  and  that  is  all.  Men  dine  with  him,  trade 
with  him,  are  friends  with  him.  He  should  be  at  least  tabooed, 
horsewhipped  or  shot  in  duel.  ..." 

Nor  was  the  news  from  Major  Higginson's  former  regiment 
calculated  to  raise  his  spirits.  Colonel  Chamberlain  writes  him 
early  in  September:  — 

"Our  reg.  have  present  for  duty  over  four  hundred  men, 
and  only  jour  line  officers,  and  they  2nd  Lieutenants,  sadly 
demoralize.1  .  .  .  The  last  month  campaign  exceeds  in  sever- 
ity all  the  previous  ones,  and  we  must  have  rest.  ...  I  can- 
not imagine  what  has  come  over  the  North,  what  has  brought 
about  this  strong  apathy  and  criminal  carelessness  about  filling 
up  the  Army.  We  want  men,  not  a  lot  of  sickly  Boys  and  crip- 
ples, where  is  all  of  the  boasted  patriotism  of  Massachusetts, 
gone  too,  to  have  her  send  agents  to  collect  such  scum  and 
trash,  that  has  been  sent  us  of  late.  They  are  a  source  of  weak- 
ness, instead  of  strength  to  the  cause.  But  avoid  the  draft  by 
all  means,  let  the  Army,  the  South,  all  go  to  the  devil,  but 
stave  off  the  draft  by  all  that  is  patriotic.  How  cheering  it  is  to 
the  men  here,  to  see  that  all  the  north  seems  to  care  about,  is 
to  prevent  the  draft.    Forty  or  fifty  thousand  men,  added  to 

'The  Colonel's  spelling  and  punctuation  have  been  loyally  followed. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  231 

this  army  would  use  up  Bob  Lee,  Richmond  and  Co  before 
another  month,  and  we,  that  would  be  left,  could  eat  our 
Thanksgiven  dinner  at  home.  But  I  don't  believe  this  will  be, 
and  we  must  make  up  our  minds  for  winter  Quarters,  south  of 
the  James.  Yet  I  feel  hopefull,  and  cannot  believe  that  all  this 
blood  has  been  shed  for  nothing,  the  North  will  yet  arouse. 
We  are  digging  for  safety.  Earley  is  our  front,  and  spades  are 
trumps  again.  ...  I  wish  to  see  this  fight  out  or  I  would  re- 
sign, for  the  Cav.  Corps  is  no  place  for  a  soldier  or  any  one  who 
keeps  discipline.  ..." 

And  then,  just  when  the  sky  seemed  blackest,  Sherman's 
victorious  telegram  from  Atlanta  cleared  the  air.  The  last  fort 
in  Mobile  Bay  surrendered  to  Farragut.  "Sherman  and  Farra- 
gut  have  knocked  the  bottom  out  of  the  Chicago  nominations," 
said  Seward  on  September  14;  and  within  a  week  came  the  vic- 
tories of  Sheridan  at  Winchester  and  Fisher's  Hill.  "Three 
cheers  for  Sherman ! "  wrote  Greely  Curtis  from  Montreux.  "  I 
got  hold  of  the  new  '  Galignani '  containing  the  Atlanta  news, 
and  that  was  consolation  for  all  disappointments.  As  Robert 
Williams  might  say,  '  I  felt  like  I  was  drunk.'  " 

But  in  that  jubilant  October  Henry  Higginson  was  once  more 
bereaved  of  a  friend,  and  this  time  it  was  the  closest  friend  of 
all,  Charles  Lowell.  Colonel  Lowell  fell  at  Cedar  Creek,  on  the 
19th,  charging  at  the  head  of  his  brigade,  holding  back  the 
Confederate  cavalry  while  Sheridan  was  galloping  up  from 
Winchester.  Thirteen  horses  had  been  shot  under  him  in  that 
Valley  campaign.  "  I  have  no  idea  that  I  shall  be  hit,"  he  had 
just  written  to  his  wife,  "but  I  want  so  much  not  to  now,  that 
it  sometimes  frightens  me." 

Greely  Curtis,  it  seems,  had  a  premonition  of  what  was 
coming. 

"I  know  well  enough  when  thinking  quietly  about  it  [he 
wrote  Higginson]  that  no  good  fellow  lives  or  dies  fruitlessly; 
but  the  cowardly  selfishness  of  these  peace  men  comes  out  in 
such  strong  contrast  to  the  gallantry  and  truth  of  Jim  Savage, 


232  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Bob  Shaw,  Charley  Lowell  and  the  others  that  I  feel  heartsick. 
...  It  was  rather  curious  that  after  the  news  of  Sheridan's 
defeat  and  victory  had  reached  us  by  telegraph,  without  any 
details,  I  felt  sure  that  Charley  Lowell  was  killed  —  owing 
doubtless  to  your  having  mentioned  that  he  had  4  horses  shot 
under  him  in  previous  fights.  I  felt  so  certain  of  it  that  I  ex- 
amined the  subsequent  lists  with  a  view  to  his  name  only,  and 
on  not  finding  it,  said,  'Thank  God  it  is  n't  there';  but  in  the 
next  paragraph  found  it  mentioned  by  itself." 

"  I  do  not  think  there  was  a  quality,"  said  Sheridan,  "which 
I  could  have  added  to  Lowell.  He  was  the  perfection  of  a  man 
and  a  soldier."  He  was  buried  on  October  28,  from  Appleton 
Chapel.  "  I  remember,"  writes  Edward  Waldo  Emerson,  "one 
rainy  day  when  the  sudden  gusts  blew  the  yellow  leaves  in 
showers  from  the  College  elms,  hearing  the  beautiful  notes  of 
Pleyel's  Hymn,  which  was  the  tune  to  which  soldiers  were  borne 
to  burial,  played  by  the  band  as  the  procession  came,  bearing 
Charles  Lowell's  body  from  his  mother's  house  to  the  College 
Chapel;  and  seeing  the  coffin,  wrapped  in  the  flag,  carried  to 
the  altar  by  soldiers;  and  how  strangely  in  contrast  with  the 
new  blue  overcoats  and  fresh  white  and  red  bunting  were  the 
campaign-soiled  cap  and  gauntlets,  the  worn  hilt  and  battered 
scabbard  of  the  sword  that  lay  on  the  coffin.1  .  .  . 

Henry  Higginson,  "in  black  and  gray,"  was  one  of  the  pall- 
bearers; and  in  the  fifty-five  years  that  were  to  pass  before  he 
himself  should  be  borne  from  Appleton  Chapel  to  Mt.  Auburn, 
there  was  scarcely  a  day,  I  believe,  in  which  he  was  not  think- 
ing of  his  friend.  Lowell's  last  letter  to  him,  written  on  Sep- 
tember 10,  is  essential  to  an  understanding  of  the  controlling 
motive  of  Higginson's  later  life:  — 

"...  I  felt  very  sorry,  old  fellow,  at  your  being  finally 
obliged  to  give  up,  for  I  know  you  would  have  liked  to  see  it 
out ;  however,  there  is  work  enough  for  a  public-spirited  cove 
everywhere.   Labor  for  recruits  and  for  Linkum,  and  you  will 

1  Life  and  Letters  of  Charles  Russell  Lowell,  p.  68. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  233 

do  more  than  by  sabring  six  Confederates.  How  do  you  earn 
your  bread  nowadays ;  or,  if  you  are  not  earning  it,  how  do  you 
manage  to  pay  for  it?  .  .  .  I  hope,  Mr.  Higginson,  that  you 
are  going  to  live  like  a  plain  Republican,  mindful  of  the  beauty 
and  the  duty  of  simplicity.  Nothing  fancy  now,  Sir,  if  you 
please.  It's  disreputable  to  spend  money,  when  the  Govern- 
ment is  so  hard  up,  and  when  there  are  so  many  poor  officers. 
I  hope  you  have  outgrown  all  foolish  ambitions  and  are  now 
content  to  become  a 'useful  citizen.'  .  .  .  Don't  grow  rich;  if 
you  once  begin,  you  will  find  it  much  more  difficult  to  be  a  use- 
ful citizen.  The  useful  citizen  is  a  mighty  unpretending  hero. 
But  we  are  not  going  to  have  any  country  very  long  unless 
such  heroism  is  developed. 

"There!  what  a  stale  sermon  I'm  preaching;  but  being  a 
soldier,  it  does  seem  to  me  that  I  should  like  nothing  else  so  well 
as  being  a  useful  citizen.  ...  By  Jove!  what  I  have  wasted 
through  crude  and  stupid  theories.  I  wish  old  Stephen  were 
alive.  I  should  like  to  poke  fingers  through  his  theories  and 
have  him  poke  through  mine.  How  I  do  envy  (or  rather  ad- 
mire) the  young  fellows  who  have  something  to  do  now  with- 
out theories,  and  do  it.  I  believe  I  have  lost  all  my  ambitions, 
old  fellow.  ...  I  don't  think  I  would  turn  my  hand  to  be  a 
distinguished  chemist  or  a  famous  mathematician.  All  I  now 
care  about  is  to  be  a  useful  citizen,  with  money  enough  to  buy 
my  bread  and  firewood  and  to  teach  my  children  how  to  ride 
on  horseback  and  look  strangers  in  the  face,  especially  South- 
ern strangers.  ...  I  wonder  whether  I  shall  ever  see  you 
again.1  .  .  . 

Lincoln's  reelection  on  November  8  meant  that  the  war 
would  be  fought  out.  Army  men  knew  it.  Theodore  Lyman 
wrote,  on  November  10,  to  Higginson:  "To-night  we  have 
positive  news  of  Lincoln's  reelection.  I  am  glad  of  it  —  not 
that  I  like  him  —  nor  that  I  dislike  McClellan  —  but  Mac  had 

1  Emerson,  op.  tit.,  p.  340. 


234  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

a  lot  of  peace  men  about  him,  and  that  spoiled  the  thing." 
And  Captain  F.  L.  Higginson  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry  wrote  a 
curious  detail :  "  On  the  day  we  heard  of  the  result  of  the  elec- 
tion a  salute  was  fired  in  honor  of  Lincoln  by  a  Wisconsin  bat- 
tery that  voted  almost  unanimously  for  McClellan,  and  a  flag- 
staff and  flag  was  raised  by  rebel  prisoners  in  a  fort  built  by 
rebel  prisoners.  Rather  funny,  was  n't  it?" 

Within  a  week  after  the  election  Henry  Higginson,  obstin- 
ately reckless  of  himself  as  ever,  wrote  to  C.  E.  Perkins,  Low- 
ell's young  associate  on  the  Burlington  R.R.,  that  he  was  im- 
patient to  take  the  field  again.  But  he  got  little  encouragement 
from  those  who  knew  his  physical  condition.  Curtis  wrote 
sensibly  from  Paris :  — 

"...  Let  me  urge  on  you  the  absolute  need  of  perfect  rest. 
Just  remember  that  the  year's  work  of  a  §  sick  man  is  n't  \  the 
work  of  a  well  man  and  that  it  is  the  truest  economy  to  get 
well  first  and  foremost.  This  is  intended  as  a  lecture,  for  in 
your  last  letter  you  gave  me  the  idea  that  you  were  disheart- 
ened with  doing  nothing, '  that  it  was  n't  the  way  to  earn  one's 
bread.'  It  is  the  way  to  do  just  that  thing.  I  am  entirely  con- 
vinced of  it.  To  be  egotistical  and  refer  again  to  myself  as  an 
example,  let  me  say  that  if,  from  Jan.  1863  to  May  1st,  1863, 1 
had  been  simply  idling  and  amusing  myself  at  home,  I  should 
have  been  a  well  man,  and  fit  to  have  done  good  wholesome 
service  from  May  out  (barring  the  accidents  which  occur  at 
Aldie  and  such).  You  and  I  thought  that  we  had  got  away 
from  South  Carolina  scot  free.  I  doubt  much  if  we  did,  and  at 
any  rate  the  wear  and  tear  of  rough  life  and  all  weathers  told 
on  our  fragile  forms.  So  keep  quiet  as  a  money-making  pursuit 
and  in  future  we  '11  do  great  things.  ..." 

Captain  James  J.  Higginson  of  the  First  Cavalry  was  equally 
explicit. 

"...  I  am  sorry  to  see  that  you  are  allowing  various  plans 
for  reentering  the  service  to  occupy  your  attention  seriously. 
It  seems  to  me  you  make  a  great  mistake  in  so  doing.    The 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  235 

most  foolish  thing  that  you  have  done  for  years  past  was  re- 
turning to  the  army  last  July,  and  the  fortnight  you  were  here 
did  you  harm.  Why  will  you  be  so  unwise  as  to  repeat  the 
error?  There  is  no  call  upon  you  to  reenter  the  service.  The 
Government  has  more  officers  now  than  it  needs.  It  is  a  mis- 
taken notion  that  duty  calls  you  back  to  the  service.  It  does  n't. 
It  bids  you  remain  where  you  are  and  try  not  to  be  rest- 

ACoo#      •      •      • 

"[P.S.,  in  pencil]  .  .  .  The  more  I  think  of  yr.  plan,  the 
more  impracticable  it  seems  to  me.  Pray  give  it  up  like  a  sensi- 
ble fellow  and  rest  on  your  laurels." 

And  Colonel  Charles  F.  Adams,  kind  and  brusque  as  ever, 
volunteers  his  opinion :  — 

"...  It  surprises  me  that  you  yet  hanker  after  the  tented 
field.  If  you  return  to  it  now,  it  will  only  set  you  so  much  fur- 
ther back  in  the  world,  for  I  presume  you've  got  some  day  to 
find  an  occupation  whereby  to  keep  wolf  from  your  door,  and 
one  would  think  that  a  year  or  two  of  application  to  some  call- 
ing now  would  not  be  thrown  away.  As  to  a  sense  of  duty  on 
your  part  —  a  man  who  has  your  scars  to  show,  and  who  has 
married  a  wife,  is  not  in  my  opinion  called  on  to  resume  the 
cudgels,  at  any  rate  in  the  present  aspect  of  the  race.  I  say 
unto  thee  —  settle  down!  —  and  turn  thy  hand  to  honest  toil, 
and,  having  given  hostages  to  fortune,  don't  waste  any  more 
time  in  aimless  pursuits.  All  of  which  excellent  advice  is  given 
gratuitously,  and  you  need  n't  mind  paying  me,  for  I  shan't 
send  in  any  bill. 

"Col.  Russell  and  his  wife  are  well  and  domestically  con- 
tented. I  have  fallen  into  the  most  matrimonial  crowd  here  it 
was  ever  my  fortune  to  encounter.  Our  officers  marry  right 
and  left  and  every  second  Lieut,  in  the  regiment  either  has, 
or  is  about  to  have,  his  wife  in  camp.  I  grimly  refrain  from 
disapprobation,  but  keep  up  a  powerful  thinking.  Wives  are 
all  very  well,  and  I  wish  I  had  two  or  three  myself,  but  not  in 
camp  —  not  in  camp.   A  camp  should  be  nomadic  —  it  should 


236  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

never  take  root.  A  lady  living  in  camp  is  in  contravention  of 
the  natural  fitness  of  things. 

"  Your  brother  Frank  appears  to  be  very  well.  I  like  him  very 
much  —  have  taken  quite  a  fancy  to  him.  He  is  an  excellent 
captain  and  does  his  work  so  much  more  thoroughly  and  con- 
scientiously than  I  ever  did  that  I  feel  it  is  not  for  me  to  ever 
find  fault  with  him.  In  fact,  their  officers  get  out  of  these  dark- 
ies an  amount  and  quality  of  work  which  would  put  to  the 
blush  the  highest  flights  of  our  imagination  in  the  best  days  of 
the  old  regiment.   ..." 

But  it  was  by  no  means  easy  to  discover  the  way  to  that 
"honest  toil "  of  which  Adams  wrote  so  gayly.  Higginson,  dis- 
couraged from  reenlisting,  tried  again  and  again,  as  the 
autumn  turned  to  winter,  to  find  work  in  Boston.  He  was 
thirty.  His  letter  to  his  brother  James  on  December  6  breathes 
bitterness  —  and  contempt  for  profiteers :  — 

...  I  am  still  prospecting,  and  shall  continue  until  some- 
thing good  offers.  It  is  not  easy  work,  and  very  few  people 
help.  Edward  Atkinson  has  taken  some  pains  and  has  been 
very  kind ;  Charles  Dal  ton  is  as  good  as  ever.  I  often  wish  to 
be  in  service  once  more,  but  am  not  yet  well  enough  for  the 
field.  Do  not  expect  that  any  one  beside  your  father  will  help 
you  here,  and  then  you  will  not  be  disappointed.  The  list  of 
incomes  for  last  year  over  $25,000  has  just  been  published,  and 
gives  one  a  start.  These  people  have  been  reaping  this  harvest, 
while  we  have  defended  them,  but  few  remember  it.  Think 
of  $365,000  (A),1  $188,000  (B),  $150,000  (C),  $160,000  (D), 
$70,000  (E),  and  lots  more  of  them.    (F)  $39,000,  the  heirs  of 

(G)  $170,000  income.    They  are  raising  $10,000  for  G 

W 's  mother  and  sister;  one  of  these  men  had  better  give 

it.  However,  no  decent  man  would  change  places  to-day  with 
(H)  or  with  many  others.  .  .  . 

1  The  names  mentioned  in  this  letter  —  represented  here  by  A,  B,  C,  etc.  —  are 
those  of  prominent  Boston  families. 


THE  CIVIL  WAR:  THIRD  PHASE  237 

At  last  a  chance  for  work  came,  in  the  oil-fields  of  Southern 
Ohio.  It  was  only  an  experiment,  like  so  many  other  efforts 
in  Henry  Higginson's  long  endeavor  to  find  his  true  calling. 
Some  incidents  of  his  life  in  Ohio  will  be  sketched  in  the  next 
chapter.  It  will  be  sufficient  now  if  we  think  of  him  in  the 
mire  of  the  oil-fields  from  January  to  July,  1865,  —  at  first 
alone  and  then  in  company  with  his  wife,  —  while  his  brothers, 
with  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  were  closing  in  upon  Richmond, 
and  Sherman  was  marching  northwards,  and  Lee  surrendering 
at  Appomattox.  In  that  Ohio  wilderness  Lincoln's  assassina- 
tion was  for  days  an  unproved  rumor,  and  the  Grand  Review 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  in  Washington  was  as  distant  and 
unreal  as  the  pageantry  of  a  dream.  The  era  of  the  Civil  War 
closed  for  Higginson,  not  in  battle  or  triumphal  march,  but  to 
the  slow  dirge  music  of  Commemoration  Day  at  Harvard,  on 
July  21,  1865. 

He  had  returned  to  Cambridge  with  his  wife,  and  he  marched 
on  that  July  morning,  in  the  halting  procession  of  veterans, 
from  old  Gore  Hall  through  the  Yard  to  the  Unitarian  meet- 
ing-house. Colonel  Henry  Lee  was  marshal.  Major  Higginson 
walked  with  his  classmate  Hosmer,  and  heard  the  thunders  of 
applause  that  greeted  Major-Generals  Barlow  and  Bartlett. 
There  was  an  address  and  music,  and  the  prayer  by  Phillips 
Brooks,  unreported  as  to  its  words,  but  even  now  the  most 
living  memory  of  that  noble  day,  the  "matchless  prayer  of 
resignation  and  of  triumph." *  After  the  luncheon  in  Harvard 
Hall  there  were  the  exercises  under  the  pavilion  by  the  Tree 
in  the  Yard:  speeches  by  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Governor 
Andrew,  General  Devens,  General  Meade,  and  Colonel  Henry 
Russell;  poems  by  Holmes  and  Julia  Ward  Howe  (this  latter 
read  by  Charles  W.  Eliot) ,  and  an  attempted  speech  by  Gen- 
eral Bartlett,  to  whom  Colonel  Henry  Lee,  the  presiding  officer, 
made  his  famous  comforting  bon  mot  —  "As  Congress  said 

1  William  Garrott  Brown,  "The  Great  Occasions  of  an  American  University," 
in  The  Foe  of  Compromise,  N.Y.,  1903. 


238  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

to  Washington,  'Sit  down,  sir,  sit  down.  Your  modesty  is 
equal  to  your  valor.' "  And  there  was  Lowell's  "  Commemora- 
tion Ode,"  not  impressive  to  most  hearers  as  delivered,  and 
without  the  superb  stanzas  on  Lincoln  which  were  subse- 
quently added.  But  on  that  day,  as  Colonel  Lee  said  long 
afterwards,  all  words,  except  the  prayer  of  Phillips  Brooks, 
seemed  powerless  to  convey  what  was  felt. 

When  Major  Higginson  took  off  his  army  uniform  that 
night,  the  epoch  of  his  youth  was  over. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

OIL  AND  COTTON 

The  pain  was  great  when  the  strings  were  being  tuned, 
My  Master. 

—  Rabindranath  Tagore. 

It  is  clear  enough  now  that  the  impression  made  by  Henry 
Higginson  upon  his  generation  was  not  due  to  his  success  in 
any  particular  calling.  It  was  due  to  a  unique  character,  to 
certain  ideals  of  conduct  steadily  pursued  through  a  long  se- 
ries of  disappointments  and  failures  in  discovering  a  career. 
Nothing  was  really  wasted  in  those  wanderings  in  Europe,  in 
the  futile  efforts  to  become  a  musician,  in  the  gallant  endeavor 
to  render  efficient  service  in  the  War.  He  had  proved  to  be  a 
brave  and  capable  officer,  like  many  of  his  intimate  friends; 
but  in  all  that  group,  with  the  possible  exceptions  of  Lowell 
and  Barlow,  there  was  little  of  the  indefinable  gift  which  is 
known  as  military  genius.  Nor  did  Higginson  possess,  like  his 
friends  of  a  later  period,  Andrew  Carnegie  and  J.  P.  Morgan, 
a  born  genius  for  affairs.  Even  after  he  became  a  successful 
banker,  there  were  always  plenty  of  men  in  State  Street  who 
were  ready  with  the  opinion  that  he  had  no  special  talent  for 
finance.  His  success  was  owing,  they  thought,  to  his  honesty, 
his  courage,  his  fortunate  association  with  other  men,  his 
"luck."  I  have  heard  him  say  more  than  once:  "Men  often 
speak  of  me  as  successful  in  business,  but  I  have  guessed  wrong 
more  often  than  I  have  guessed  right." 

The  story  of  the  three  years  between  January,  1865,  and 
January,  1868,  —  when  he  joined  the  firm  of  Lee,  Higginson 
and  Co.,  —  is  chiefly  a  story  of  two  wrong  guesses.  One  of 
them  has  to  do  with  oil  and  one  with  cotton.  Each  of  these 
experiments  left  him  even  poorer  than  before  in  pocket,  but 


240  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

each  was  rich  in  picturesque  experience,  in  fresh  contacts 
with  men  and  with  economic  forces,  and  in  self-discipline.  He 
had  to  take,  between  thirty-one  and  thirty-four,  some  very 
hard  hammering ;  and  the  resilience  of  boyhood  was  no  longer 
his.  But  he  showed  certain  qualities  even  more  valuable  than 
resilience:  namely,  endurance,  patience,  humor,  and  good- 
will. Recognized  victory  came  to  him  tardily ;  but  not  to  know 
when  you  are  beaten  is  already  victory  under  another  and 
perhaps  a  finer  form. 

In  the  winter  of  1864-65  Boston  had  one  of  the  first  of  its 
recurrent  fevers  for  speculation  in  oil.  The  discovery  of  petro- 
leum in  Pennsylvania  and  Ohio  filled  the  sky  with  rainbows. 
No  one  in  Boston  knew  anything  about  oil,  but  everybody 
bought  oil  stocks.  A  few  highly  respectable  gentlemen,  headed 
by  William  Sheafe,  Dr.  J.  B.  Upham,  and  Mr.  George  P.  Up- 
ham,  organized  the  Buckeye  Oil  Company,  to  develop  the 
hidden  resources  of  the  Duck  Creek  district  near  Caldwell, 
Ohio,  some  twenty-five  miles  north  of  Marietta.  They  raised 
$25,000,  and  engaged  Major  Higginson  to  go  out  as  their 
agent,  on  a  salary,  to  begin  with,  of  $8.25  a  day. 

His  ignorance  of  his  duties  was  absolute.  Stopping  in  Phila- 
delphia to  investigate  some  new  pumping  devices,  and  in  Pitts- 
burgh to  bargain  for  tanks  and  barrels,  he  found  himself  at  the 
end  of  January  in  the  tumbled  little  hills  along  Duck  Creek, 
many  miles  from  the  railroad.  The  nearest  post-offices  were  at 
Olive  and  Caldwell;  the  nearest  market  for  oil,  if  oil  should 
be  found,  was  a  dozen  miles  away,  over  clay  roads  impassable 
in  winter.  The  Buckeye  Company  had  bought  a  farm  or  two, 
and  had  leases  of  others.  Rival  companies  had  begun  work 
along  the  Creek,  and  the  natives  of  the  region  —  "greedy, 
ugly  and  dirty"  and  Secessionist  in  their  sympathies  —  were 
selling  their  farms  as  fast  as  possible,  and  moving  on. 

The  Buckeye  Company  did  not  own  even  a  horse.  Pump- 
ing machinery  and  tanks  were  coming  down  the  Ohio  from 


OIL  AND  COTTON  241 

Pittsburgh  by  the  Zanesville  —  Pittsburgh  Weekly  Packet  — 
"the  good  Steam  Boat  Emma  Graham."  (The  Major  kept 
those  old  bills  of  lading  all  his  life.)  Teams  had  to  be  hired  to 
haul  machinery,  coal  was  needed  for  the  pumps  and  lumber  for 
the  buildings,  and  for  weeks  neither  coal  nor  lumber  nor  horses 
were  to  be  had.  The  Major,  quartered  in  a  rude  boarding- 
house,  where  he  had  to  share  his  room  at  times  with  three 
other  men,  bargained  and  persuaded  and  tramped  through  the 
mire,  —  sometimes  twelve  miles  at  a  stretch,  —  until  he 
brought  something  like  order  out  of  chaos.  He  bought  horses, 
built  a  sawmill,  contracted  for  coal,  hired  men  at  $5  a  day,  and 
by  the  middle  of  February,  "comfortless,  dirty  and  lonely" 
though  he  was,  he  was  able  to  report  that  "  things  are  moving." 
One  of  his  wells  struck  a  little  oil,  and  oil,  if  it  could  be  tanked, 
barreled  and  hauled  to  market,  was  worth  $15  a  barrel.  Rain- 
bows and  pots  of  gold ! 

But  accounts  bothered  him,  as  always.  He  writes  naively 
to  his  father:  "I've  a  simple  account  book  for  the  Company. 
In  what  form  should  I  keep  my  account?  Which  side  is  Dr. 
and  which  Cr.?"  George  Higginson  could  answer  that  ques- 
tion very  easily  indeed!  But  if  the  son  was  not  much  of  an 
arithmetician,  he  had  some  shrewd  notions  as  to  geology,  and 
submitted  to  his  father-in-law,  Professor  Louis  Agassiz,  some 
questions  about  sinking  wells,  not  in  the  bottom  lands  as  was 
customary,  but  up  among  the  folds  of  the  hills.  Agassiz,  who 
was  just  starting  on  his  expedition  to  Brazil,  confirmed  Hig- 
ginson's  opinion,  but  the  trustees  of  the  Buckeye  Company 
were  suspicious  of  scientific  experts.  "All  of  our  Trustees," 
wrote  Mr.  Sheafe  from  Boston,  "are  not  of  the  opinion  that 
scientific  men  know  more  about  where  and  how  to  sink  wells 
than  other  people."  Divining-rods,  it  may  be  added,  were 
still  in  favor  along  Duck  Creek. 

The  problems  of  organization  likewise  worried  the  agent, 
and  he  corresponded  about  them  with  Alexander  Agassiz,  who 
was  just  at  that  time  absenting  himself  from  the  Museum  of 
17 


242  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Comparative  Zoology  in  order  to  develop  some  oil  properties 
in  Pennsylvania.  The  younger  Agassiz  was  getting  ready  for 
his  Calumet  and  Hecla  experience,  though  he  did  not  know  it. 
He  gave  his  brother-in-law  some  good  advice,  but  it  was  clear 
that  a  proper  organization  of  the  Buckeye  interests  was  im- 
possible without  additional  capital  and  a  freer  hand  for  the 
agent.  "Once  opposite  to  a  man,  I  can  make  him  say '  Yes'  or 
'No,'"  wrote  Higginson  to  his  wife;  but  the  Trustees  of  the 
Buckeye  Company  would  say  neither  "Yes"  nor  "No"  in 
response  to  his  letters  and  telegrams.  Everything  of  impor- 
tance had  to  be  referred  to  them;  and  receiving  plenty  of 
drafts  drawn  by  H.  L.  Higginson,  and  no  returns  whatever 
from  the  sale  of  oil,  they  began  to  write  of  "the  want  of  funds 
and  perhaps  of  faith  from  here." 

This  was  in  the  middle  of  March,  "a  horrid  month"  for 
the  Major.  The  saw-mill  broke  down,  and  the  pumps  were 
working  badly.  The  natives  of  Duck  Creek  refused  to  labor 
in  bad  weather.  Higginson's  wounds  troubled  him:  "I  get 
so  weary  and  ache  so  that  I  drag  along  sometimes,  longing  to 
sit  or  lie  down."  But  he  stuck  grimly  to  his  task  and  hoped 
for  better  weather.  "As  soon  as  the  roads  are  pretty  dry, 
teamsters  enough  will  come  in  from  the  country  around  here 
and  will  reduce  the  price  by  the  competition  (see  Mill's  '  Prin. 
Pol.  Econ.')."  His  letters  to  his  wife  during  this  period  say 
little  about  the  war;  but  he  was  sure  that  slavery  at  least  was 
ended. 

Now  we  stand  fair  with  all  the  world  and  have  wiped  away 
this  stain  of  inheritance  forever  and  ever.  The  theory  of  the 
nation  has  become  its  practice.  I  was  thinking  about  it  yes- 
terday as  I  climbed  over  the  hills  covered  with  snow,  jumped 
over  fences  and  brooks.  The  evening  clouds  were  splendid, 
too,  leaden  color  and  purple  in  the  west  with  a  streak  or  two 
of  orange  where  the  light  broke  thro',  and  overhead  white 
and  lilac  with  broad  patches  of  blue  sky,  like  skies  in  some  of 
Rubens's  and  some  of  Ruysdael's  landscapes. 


>o 

s 

\£) 

o 

CO 

- 

*— I 

-j. 

-j 

Z 

X 

03 

w 

u 

- 

1 

>> 

o 

£> 

o 

an 

J 

C 

o 

is 

at 

HH 

)-. 

X 

•a 

o 

ni 

w 

S 

o 

(In 


OIL  AND  COTTON  243 

He  had  a  room  to  himself  now,  "  where  I  can  read  my  Testa- 
ment in  peace."  He  was  reading  Browning,  too,  and  found 
time  to  discuss  the  stories  of  Henry  James.  "Harry  James's 
story  sounds  interesting  enough,  but  the  conclusion  will  show 
him  up.  There  is  no  lack  of  talent  in  that  family."  William 
James,  as  it  appears  from  the  correspondence,  had  been  hold- 
ing high  debate  with  Mrs.  Higginson  about  artistic  greatness: 
what  constitutes  it? 

I  am  glad  [wrote  the  weary  Agent  of  the  Buckeye  Company] 
that  Willy  James  was  so  pleasant  and  talked  so  well.  How 
can  I  tell  what  makes  the  artist  great  or  greater  than  his  neigh- 
bor? .  .  .  Beethoven  seems  to  have  mastered  his  art,  and  yet 
he  doubtless  had  something  to  learn  and  left  unsaid  much  in 
his  own  spirit.  He  has  shown  us  as  many  sides  (in  that  art) 
as  any  artist  in  any  art,  has  not  he?  It  is  strange  that  he,  of 
all  men,  should  be  cited  as  the  beginner  of  this  "School  of  the 
Future"  in  music  (what  an  arrogant  title!),  when  he  of  all 
men  mastered  form  and  incorporated  it  into  his  own  mind. 
This  wild,  reckless,  formless  mode  of  expression!  Words  may 
not  suffice,  but  maudlinizing  surely  will  not.  Have  you  heard 
Liszt's  chords  of  ninths,  elevenths,  thirteenths?  It  makes  my 
hair  stand  on  end  to  think  of  them.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
write  music  like  anyone,  but  it  is  necessary  to  write  it  within 
bounds  if  it  is  to  live. 

The  Major  had  written  in  February:  "Everyone  in  this 
world  shirks  responsibility;  I  assume  it  here  from  necessity, 
and  like  it."  His  letters  grew  more  gay  as  spring  came  on,  and 
he  was  now  planning  for  a  log  cabin,  or  at  least  a  board  shanty, 
to  shelter  Mrs.  Higginson,  who  hoped  to  join  him  at  Duck 
Creek.  On  April  7  he  is  able  to  write  that  the  "badly  built 
shanty"  is  ready  for  her  at  last.  On  April  16:  "They  have  a 
horrid  story  about  the  assassination  of  the  President  and  of 
Mr.  Seward  all  through  the  country  here.  It  sounds  too 
horrible  to  be  true,  and  also  unlikely." 


244  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Ten  days  later  Mrs.  Higginson  arrived.  She  was  pleased 
with  the  shanty,  with  her  saddle  horse,  and  with  the  life  in 
the  open ;  pleased  too  with  her  cow  and  chickens  and  the  new 
problems  of  housekeeping,  in  which  she  had  the  assistance  of 
a  "native  helper,"  Mrs.  Hicks.  Here  is  a  Cotter's  Saturday 
Night  picture,  drawn  from  Mrs.  Higginson's  "Diary":  — 

"After  Hal  came  home  Saturday,  we  had  dinner  of  tongue, 
bread  and  butter,  and  baked  apples.  After  dinner  I  drew  and 
Hal  read  and  we  sat  by  the  fire  at  dusk  and  talked.  We  talked 
about  John  Mill  and  then  had  tea,  bread  and  butter  and  cheese, 
and  in  the  evening  Hal  read  some  more  'Political  Economy' 
and  I  drew  and  we  talked  and  had  some  hot  claret  and  water 
and  a  first-rate  jollification." 

Alas,  in  that  very  week,  —  and  as  if  to  spite  the  idyll  of 
cherry  blossoms  and  horseback  rides  and  Mill's  "Political 
Economy,"  read  aloud  over  hot  claret  and  water,  —  Mr.  Wil- 
liam Sheaf e  is  writing  on  behalf  of  the  Buckeye  Trustees:  — 

I  paid  yesterday  your  draft  of  $2000.  .  .  .  The  payment  of 
these  bills  and  drafts  reduced  the  amount  remaining  in  the 
Treasury  to  about  $6000,  scarcely  enough  to  complete  the 
work  you  have  now  under  weigh.  In  nearly  all  the  letters  I 
have  written  you,  I  have  desired  you  to  keep  in  mind  the  neces- 
sity of  a  reasonable  economy  in  your  expenditures,  as  the  work- 
ing capital  of  the  Company  was  not  large,  although  it  was 
considered  sufficient  to  complete  the  work  the  Trustees  had 
marked  out  to  be  accomplished.  .  .  .  The  object  in  view,  you 
will  perceive,  is  stop  doing  any  more  work  on  the  Company's  ac- 
count. .  .  .  You  will  perceive  that  our  aim  is  to  reduce  at 
once  the  expenses  of  the  Company  to  the  lowest  possible 
figure;  but  otherwise  than  to  discharge  such  of  the  hands  as 
can  be  spared  without  injury  to  the  Company's  interest  or  to  stop 
buying  any  more  tools,  etc.,  incurring  expense  or  contracting  any 
debt,  we  do  not  wish  you  to  conclude  or  decide  upon  any 


OIL  AND  COTTON  245 

arrangement  with  B.  and  F.  until  first  submitting  the  matter 
to  us  for  decision.  .  .  . 

P.S.  Please  send  your  account  of  expenditures  from  the 
time  you  first  went  out.  W.  S. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  this  letter  was  wholly  a  surprise  to  the 
Major.  He  had  just  written  to  his  father  that  the  Buckeye 
people  were  in  such  haste  to  make  fortunes  and  so  afraid  of  ex- 
penditures that  they  must  find  another  agent.  Only  in  March 
had  he  been  informed  that  the  working  capital  was  limited  to 
$25,000.  "We  are  doing  rather  too  much  work  for  the  capital. 
...  I  cannot  and  will  not  bind  myself  to  such  a  concern  for 
any  length  of  time."  He  had  already,  it  appears,  applied  to 
George  L.  Ward  of  Boston,  Treasurer  of  the  Lewiston  Cotton 
Mills,  for  a  clerkship  in  New  Orleans.  Mr.  Ward  thought  there 
might  be  an  opening  by  November,  but  did  not  commit 
himself. 

By  the  first  week  in  June  cherries  and  strawberries  were  ripe 
along  Duck  Creek,  the  Higginson's  cow  was  giving  twenty 
quarts  of  milk  a  day,  and  there  were  "signs  of  oil "  in  eight  out 
of  the  Major's  nine  wells.  One  was  actually  pumping  oil  at  the 
rate  of  $300  a  month,  if  only  the  oil  could  be  marketed.  But 
even  the  kindly  and  courteous  Dr.  J.  B.  Upham  of  the  Buckeye 
Trustees  now  informs  their  agent:  "Your  time  for  which  we 
originally  agreed  is  indeed,  as  you  say,  well-nigh  up."  Mr. 
Sheafe  writes  on  June  7 :  — 

Sight  drafts  for  $2601.38  and  $510,  drawn  by  you,  have  been 
presented.  I  have  received  no  advices  or  notice  of  these  drafts, 
and  can  only  conjecture  for  what  purpose  they  were  drawn. 
.  .  .  Our  capital  is  exhausted,  and  any  further  drafts  we  shall 
have  to  pay  out  of  our  own  pockets,  as  the  articles  of  Trust  for- 
bid our  contracting  for  more  work  than  we  have  the  actual 
means  on  hand  to  pay  for.  I  trust  you  will  not  have  to  make 
any  more  drafts  on  me  and  that  these  amounts,  together  with 


246  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

the  two  thousand  dollars  lately  sent  you,  will  be  the  last  be- 
fore you  will  be  in  condition  to  sell  oil  enough  to  pay  all 
expenses.  .  .  . 

P.S.  Please  send  your  accounts  to  June  1st  or  to  the  time 
you  next  write.  Also  send  correct  estimate  of  daily  expenses 
and  the  estimated  cost  of  completing  the  work  now  going  on. 
We  wish  you  to  reduce  the  expenses  from  this  time  to  the  low- 
est possible  figure  and  contract  for  no  material  without  special 
instructions  to  that  effect  from  the  Trustees. 

W.  S. 

P.S.  I  wrote  you  May  24th  and  May  30th;  nothing  from 
you  since  those  dates.  An  encouraging  item  greatly  wanted 
and  would  be  duly  appreciated.  Quotation  Petroleum  ex- 
change to-day:  "Buckeye  —  $3.  asked." 

The  final  letter  in  the  Buckeye  file  is  also  from  Mr.  Sheafe, 
and  is  dated  June  24 :  — 

"Your  drafts  come  so  thick  and  fast  that  I  must  again  re- 
quest you  not  to  draw  on  me  for  purchase  of  any  more  ma- 
terial. The  $2000  I  last  sent  we  supposed  would  finish  the  work 
you  have  on  hand  for  Company's  account.  .  .  .  The  strictest 
economy  is  now,  more  than  ever,  absolutely  necessary;  wages 
ought  to  be  reduced,  they  have  been  reduced  everywhere  else. 
On  the  15th  March  I  wrote  you  stating  the  amount  of  capital 
we  had  to  expend,  and  requested  you  not  to  undertake  more 
work  than  that  amount  would  fully  pay  for.  That  has  all  been 
expended,  and  considerably  more,  which  I  have  paid  out  of  my 
own  pocket,  taking  my  chance  of  getting  it  back.  I  will  pay 
the  draft  you  advise,  of  $1000,  but  I  do  not  feel  like  advancing 
any  more  —  so  you  will  incur  no  debts  on  my  account,  or  on 
the  Company's  beyond  what  this  will  pay.  When  this  is  gone, 
we  must  stop  work." 

And  so  the  curtain  falls  upon  Duck  Creek.  Mrs.  Higginson's 
Diary  records :  — 

"We  left  our  dear  log-house  last  Friday,  July  14.   It  was  a 


OIL  AND  COTTON  247 

very  fresh,  cool  morning.  .  .  .  We  both  had  sat  up  late,  Hal 
doing  up  accounts,  and,  as  I  found  out  the  next  morning,  kill- 
ing chickens  at  midnight  for  our  morning  breakfast.  They 
were  very  nice  —  to  reward  his  patience  for  picking  them  till 
2  o'clock  in  the  morning."  Just  seven  days  later,  the  Major 
was  marching  in  the  Commemoration  Day  procession  in  Cam- 
bridge. The  Boston  ' '  Advertiser ' '  of  that  date,  July  2 1 ,  quotes 
Buckeye  shares  at  "$3.00  asked."  A  month  or  two  later  it  is 
"$2.00  asked" ;  and  by  November  Major  Higginson,  in  a  letter 
to  his  father,  will  be  found  rating  the  value  of  his  own  holdings 
in  Tremont  and  Buckeye  Oil  stocks  at  "$0,000."  This  was  a 
closer  guess  than  usual. 

What  next?  Rainbow-chasing  was  followed  by  a  gallant  ex- 
periment in  making  bricks  without  straw :  after  hunting  oil  in 
Ohio,  Henry  Higginson  turned  to  cotton-raising  in  Georgia. 
"Making  money  there  is  a  simple  question  of  being  able  to 
make  the  darkies  work" ;  at  least  Higginson  was  so  assured  in 
September,  1865,  by  General  Barlow,  who  was  thinking  of  turn- 
ing cotton-planter  himself.  A  simple  question!  And  Barlow 
was  an  able  man,  without  many  illusions.  That  golden  autumn 
of  1865  was  in  truth  a  carpet-bagger's  Paradise.  Everything 
looked  "simple"  in  the  South:  simple  to  "Thad"  Stevens  in 
the  House,  simple  to  Sumner  in  the  Senate,  simple  —  but  per- 
haps not  quite  so  innocently  simple  —  to  President  Johnson 
with  his  shifting  Reconstruction  policies.  The  economic  prob- 
lems of  the  states  lately  in  rebellion  seemed  to  many  Northern- 
ers as  easy  as  the  political  problems :  it  was  "simply  "  a  matter 
of  getting  back  to  work,  of  increased  production  and  better  dis- 
tribution. Blacks  and  whites  would  adjust  themselves  sooner 
or  later  to  the  new  condition  of  affairs.  The  resources  of  the 
South  were  boundless ;  free  labor  was  less  wasteful  than  slave 
labor;  with  Northern  capital  and  Northern  energy,  success 
was  certain.  In  truth,  it  was  a  sort  of  after-the- Armistice  intox- 
ication.   But  human  nature  was  not  so  easily  to  be  born  again. 


248  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

In  the  Reminiscences  Major  Higginson  thus  described  the 
purchase  of  "  Cottonham" :  — 

At  the  close  of  the  Civil  War  many  of  us  had  nothing  to  do, 
and  needed  to  earn  our  bread.  I  had  perhaps  four  or  five  thou- 
sand dollars.  ...  I  had  been  in  an  office  many  years  earlier, 
but  my  mercantile  education  was  of  no  value,  and,  what  was 
more,  I  did  not  wish  to  go  into  business.  So  we  conceived  the 
plan  of  going  South  and  buying  a  plantation  on  which  to  grow 
cotton.  We  had  done  our  best  to  upset  the  social  conditions  at 
the  South,  and  helped  free  the  negroes,  and  it  seemed  fair  that 
we  should  try  to  help  in  their  education.  Two  old  comrades 
and  friends  —  Channing  Clapp  and  Charles  F.  Morse  —  liked 
the  idea,  and  we  three  therefore  went  to  Savannah  in  a  re- 
markably dirty  steamer,  hoping  to  proceed  from  that  point 
and  get  what  we  wanted.  We  rather  liked  the  State  of  Georgia. 
We  had  no  letters  and  no  people  to  whom  to  turn,  and  knew 
only  the  commanding  officer  of  the  United  States  Army,  Gen- 
eral Brannan.  We  asked  and  asked  about  plantations  and 
about  means  of  getting  at  them,  and  at  last  heard  of  one  called 
"Cottonham,"  belonging  to  an  old  man  named  Rogers.  After 
trying  for  a  week  to  get  means  of  communication,  we  at  last 
lighted  on  one  venturesome  hack-driver  who  would  take  us, 
for  there  were  only  two  hacks  in  the  town,  and  no  means  of 
conveyance  except  a  dray.  The  railroad  was  gone,  and  the 
plantation  was  fifteen  miles  from  the  railroad.  So  we  started 
out,  came  to  various  broken  bridges,  got  across  somehow  or 
other,  crossed  the  Ogeechee  in  a  ferry,  and  reached  a  point  on 
the  railroad.  From  there  it  was  a  clean  drive  in  the  sand  to  the 
plantation,  fifteen  miles,  with  not  a  soul  in  sight  and  not  an 
animal  except  one  deer.  We  came  to  a  bridge  some  twenty  feet 
wide,  and  tried  it  to  see  if  it  was  good.  It  seemed  sound,  and 
we  drove  on  to  it.  The  horses  went  through  with  all  eight  legs 
and  hung  there  by  their  bellies.  The  driver  was  frantic,  and 
said  we  had  ruined  him.  We  unhitched  the  team,  and  worked 


OIL  AND  COTTON  249 

hard  to  get  the  horses'  legs  out  on  to  something  stable,  putting 
in  fence-rails  for  that  purpose.  At  last  we  got  them  up,  pulled 
the  carriage  over  and  drove  to  the  plantation. 

The  house  was  situated  in  a  large  field,  and  was  surrounded 
by  beautiful  live  oaks.  A  pleasant-looking  old  gentleman  came 
out  and  greeted  us,  and  asked  us  to  come  in  and  pass  the 
night.  We  had  a  villainous  supper  of  hominy,  sweet  potatoes 
and  grease;  it  was  hot  as  tophet,  and  we  saw  what  our  life 
was  going  to  be. 

The  next  day,  Channing  Clapp,  being  a  good  negotiator, 
traded  with  the  old  man,  and  we  paid  him  $30,000  for  his  five 
thousand  acres  of  land.  Of  course  there  was  a  good,  roomy 
house,  a  good  stable  for  that  country,  a  large  negro  settlement 
a  mile  away,  and  some  negro  houses  on  the  yard  of  eight  acres 
where  the  house  stood.  We  went  through  the  usual  formalities 
of  purchase,  and  then  the  old  gentleman  left.  He  was  single 
and  lived  in  piggish  surroundings.  The  black  woman  who 
lived  with  him  cooked  his  food,  and  her  children  put  it  on  the 
table,  and  the  boy  slept  in  his  room. 

I  went  to  Savannah,  advertised  for  some  negroes,  as  we 
needed  some  more,  bought  an  army  ambulance  and  half  a 
dozen  mules,  and  went  back  to  the  plantation.  This  was  in 
the  late  autumn.  The  next  duty  was  to  get  furniture,  for  there 
was  nothing  in  the  house  fit  to  touch.  We  had  to  burn  beds, 
mattresses,  and  everything  else.  Therefore,  I  went  North, 
and  engaged  a  schooner  to  take  our  goods  to  a  point  near  the 
house.  The  creek  of  the  Ogeechee  River  came  to  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  of  our  house,  and  to  that  point  we  could  bring 
the  schooner.  I  brought  furniture,  some  dogs,  paint  and  vari- 
ous other  things  needed,  including  hams,  for  we  could  have  no 
fresh  meat.  Then  I  went  back  to  the  plantation,  and  presently 
the  schooner  turned  up  and  was  unloaded.  At  that  point  Chan- 
ning Clapp  and  I  took  off  our  coats  and  undertook  to  paint 
the  whole  house  and  a  few  pieces  of  old  furniture  which  re- 
mained. The  old  man  had  gone  one  night,  after  getting  drunk. 


250  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

To  this  account,  related  more  than  fifty  years  after  the  event, 
a  few  details  must  be  added  from  the  bundle  of  "Georgia 
Plantation"  letters  in  the  Major's  correspondence.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  none  of  the  three  Yankee  guardsmen  who 
thus  took  possession  of  Cottonham  was  without  experience  of 
the  South.  Captain  Channing  Clapp,  a  classmate  of  Higgin- 
son,  had  served  with  him  at  Hilton  Head  and  Beaufort  and  in 
the  Virginia  campaigns  of  1862  and  1863.  Colonel  C.  F.  Morse, 
Harvard  '58,  and  Higginson's  comrade  in  the  Second  Massa- 
chusetts, had  marched  through  Georgia  with  Sherman  in 
December,  1864,  and  had  fought  over  this  very  territory  of 
Cottonham.  Fort  McAllister,  whose  capture  is  described  in 
Sherman's  "Memoirs,"  was  only  a  short  ride  from  the  planta- 
tion, and  the  Federal  gunboats  had  been  thick  on  the  Ogeechee 
River,  but  eight  months  before. 

The  nearest  railroad  station,  fifteen  miles  away,  was  Way's 
Station  in  Bryan  County,  on  the  Gulf  Railroad.  It  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  "Mr.  Sherman,"  —  as  the  Georgians  still 
called  him,  —  and  both  railroad  and  station  were  considerably 
the  worse  for  the  experience.  In  fact,  neither  had  been  rebuilt 
at  the  time  when  the  Massachusetts  men  took  charge  of  their 
plantation.  The  easiest  mode  of  delivering  goods  at  Cotton- 
ham was  to  charter  a  schooner  at  Savannah,  some  thirty  miles 
to  the  North.  The  winding  channel  ran  through  Ossabaw 
Sound,  then  up  the  Ogeechee  River  and  Redbud  Creek,  to  the 
landing-place,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  "big  house." 

The  new  owners  were  not  ignorant  of  the  typical  features  of 
the  old  plantation  life.  Higginson,  at  least,  had  read  Olmsted's 
"Sea-Board  Slave  States,"  and  in  his  box  of  books  for  Cotton- 
ham —  selected,  by  the  way,  with  the  aid  of  Charles  Eliot 
Norton  —  was  Fanny  Kemble's  "Journal  of  a  Residence  on  a 
Georgian  Plantation  in  1838-1839,"  which  had  been  published 
in  1863.  The  plantation  described  by  the  unhappy  English- 
woman was  only  thirty  miles  south  of  Cottonham. 

In  mid-October  the  three  Massachusetts  men  had  spent 


OIL  AND  COTTON  251 

three  days  in  the  Sea  Islands,  examining  their  system  of  labor 
and  cultivation.  "Three  fourths  of  our  letters  are  to  rebels," 
Higginson  wrote  to  his  father.  "That  does  not  matter  now. 
We  are  assured  that  we  shall  be  well  treated  if  we  mind  our 
own  business.  Still,  many  of  the  men  to  be  met  in  the  hotels 
have  a  very  defiant  air."  On  October  20  he  sent  this  jubilant 
letter  about  the  purchase :  — 

We  have  bought  a  plantation  about  thirty  miles  from  Sa- 
vannah, healthy,  open  to  the  sea-breeze,  with  deep  water  con- 
tiguous, with  excellent  house,  negro-quarters,  cotton  and  gin 
houses,  gins,  grist-mill,  barns,  etc.,  etc.  The  buildings  are 
worth  about  $20,000,  and  would  cost  more  at  going  prices  of 
lumber,  etc.  We  have  from  4000  to  6000  acres  (surveys  are 
not  accurate  here),  1000  under  cultivation,  and  fences  about 
eight  miles  in  length  in  excellent  order.  For  this  we  pay  $27,- 
000,  but  please  mention  this  to  no  one  at  all,  as  we  all  have  agreed 
so  to  do.  We  have  bought  together  of  necessity,  and  shall  run 
it  together.  We  have  also  bought  some  stock,  and  shall  buy 
more  —  as  little  as  is  needed  to  get  on.  We  find  the  country 
perfectly  quiet  and  safe,  the  people,  black  and  white,  as  peace- 
able as  at  home,  the  educated  men  glad  to  see  us,  and  labor  we 
can  get  as  much  as  we  want  apparently.  At  any  rate  many  of 
the  negroes  on  this  plantation  have  never  left  at  all  and  wish  to 
stay.  So  we  have  solved  our  knotty  points.  And  if  cotton  is 
going  to  advance  even  more,  we  shall  do  well. 

Channing  goes  North  in  the  morning  to  make  money- 
arrangements,  and  he  will  call  on  you  for  $9500  —  say  nine 
thousand,  five  hundred  dollars.  ...  I  shall  not  return  yet, 
but  shall  help  to  organize  matters  on  the  plantation  and  to  get 
the  house  in  order  and  be  back  between  now  and  Christmas. 
.  .  .  We  have  bought  a  good  deal  under  the  going  rates  here, 
and  had  no  sooner  finished  our  bargain  than  we  were  followed 
by  two  men  from  the  Hilton  Head  colony,  who  were  grieved  to 
have  lost  the  bargain.    So  I  am  easy  about  the  investment. 


252  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

.  .  .  We  can  see  no  obstacle  to  a  peaceful  life  and  to  ultimate 
success.  .  .  . 

On  November  15  the  Major,  in  a  confidential  letter  to  his 
father  about  raising  funds  for  the  enterprise,  thus  proceeds  to 
count  the  unhatched  chickens:  — 

We  mean  to  cultivate  400  acres  of  cotton.  A  good  yield  is 
120  lbs.  to  the  acre  on  that  plantation  without  any  manure,  so 
Mr.  Rogers  assures  us.  We  shall  manure  a  good  deal,  and  have 
counted  the  cost  of  it.  Suppose  we  get  80  lbs.  to  the  acre,  a  low 
yield ;  that  gives  32,000  lbs.  This  gives  us,  at  $1  per  lb.,  $32,000. 
Our  labor  %  will  be  covered  by  $12,000,  and  our  other  running 
expenses  by  ^2SL.  This  leaves  us  $17,000,  or  $5633,  apiece. 
I  have  here  calculated  everything  to  come  in  low,  and  every  ex- 
penditure high.  Next  year  we  can  probably  cultivate  much 
more  land,  and  we  shall  average,  one  year  with  another,  much 
more  cotton  to  the  acre.  I  have  left  out  all  gain  of  stock,  such 
as  cattle  and  hogs,  which  cost  literally  nothing  and  are  very 
productive. 

Of  the  labor  situation  the  Major  thus  writes  hopefully  to 
his  wife :  — 

These  people  are  beginning  to  see  that  work  or  starvation  is 
before  them.  Also  that  the  idea  of  having  a  house  and  40  acres 
from  the  U.S.  is  chimerical.  They  also  know  that  we  shall  put 
other  laborers,  black  or  white,  into  their  houses  if  they  do  not 
work  for  us;  so  they  will  fall  in.  We  have  offered  them  for  good 
work  the  year  round  about  $370  for  a  man  and  wife,  or  about 
half  that  amount  for  a  single  person ;  also  a  good  house,  an  acre 
of  land  for  each  hand,  i.e.  two  acres  for  a  man  and  wife,  and 
fuel  for  the  year.  They  will  have  sufficient  time  to  cultivate 
this  plot  for  themselves  and  can  raise  upon  it  corn  and  potatoes 
enough  to  eat.  Of  course  they  can  keep  pigs  and  chickens  and 


OIL  AND  COTTON  253 

thus  save  nearly  all  their  earnings  except  a  small  sum  for  cloth- 
ing. We  shall  keep  a  store  on  the  place  for  their  benefit.  Then 
we  propose  bye  and  bye  to  have  a  school  for  their  children; 
this  last  as  soon  as  we  can  manage  it. 

He  had  long  talks  in  Savannah  with  an  ex-rebel  officer,  a 
Harvard  graduate,  about  the  attitude  of  Southern  men  toward 
Reconstruction. 

They  feel  no  interest  in  the  present  state  of  public  affairs  [he 
writes].  Their  whole  theory  of  government,  which  was  simply 
aristocratic,  their  every  belief  and  hope,  their  personal  prop- 
erty, everything  but  their  acres  of  land,  has  vanished;  and 
they  do  not  yet  see  what  or  how  to  do.  The  idea  of  passive  re- 
sistance still  lives  with  them  —  they  will  not  vote,  they  do  not 
care  to  be  represented,  and  they  expect  to  embarrass  the  gov- 
ernment in  this  way.  They  will  see  whether  it  makes  any  dif- 
ference if  all  the  southern  representatives  stay  away.  It  is  the 
old  error  that  the  South  is  in  itself  a  first-class  power,  and 
carries  in  her  hand  the  destinies  of  the  world.  Ignorance  of 
history,  of  science,  of  the  living  world  is  at  the  bottom  of  it  all. 

There  were  wearisome  days  of  waiting  at  Savannah  for  sup- 
plies and  extra  negro  hands  for  the  plantation.  The  major 
read  St.  Mark's  Gospel,  and  Mill's  "Essays,"  and  Carlyle's 
"Cromwell,"  and  wrote  copiously  on  these  topics  to  his  wife. 
Finally  he  collected  a  few  negroes,  and  sailed  them  down  to 
Cottonham  in  a  little  schooner.  Morse  and  Clapp  now  took 
charge  of  the  outdoor  work,  leaving  the  house  and  its  surround- 
ings to  be  cleaned  and  repaired  by  the  Major.  He  scrubbed  and 
whitewashed  and  hammered  away,  and  took  his  first  lessons  in 
housekeeping  with  negro  servants. 

• 

They  have  been  indulging  in  a  belief  or  hope  that  the  lands 
were  to  be  divided  at  Christmas.   But  they  are  quite  ready  to 


254  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

work,  are  strong,  energetic,  as  far  as  we  can  see,  and  will  come 
to  their  bearings  before  long.  .  .  .  They  suspect  everyone  a 
little  or  much,  and  will  not  work  at  all  for  their  old  masters. 
.  .  .  One  good  fellow,  named  January,  is  at  work  in  the 
house,  and  has  been  asking  me  questions  to-day.  He  says  that 
very  many  of  the  blacks  fear  that,  if  they  make  a  contract  to 
work  for  a  year  (a  point  on  which  we  insist  in  order  to  carry 
thro'  and  pick  our  crop) ,  they  will  be  slaves  at  the  end  of  that 
time.  I  have  told  him,  just  as  we  tell  everyone,  the  plainest, 
simplest  facts  of  the  case,  and  have  told  on  what  terms  he 
can  move  into  one  of  our  houses  and  work  for  us.  He  is  en- 
tirely content  with  our  terms  and  our  system;  so  are  they  all. 
.  .  .  January  wants  to  own  a  house  and  a  piece  of  land ;  and 
he  will  do  so  in  a  few  years. 

This  simple  wish  indicates  the  foundation  of  an  excellent 
agricultural  population.  They  get  good  wages,  and  then  they 
spend  freely  at  our  little  store.  Their  stock  of  clothing  is 
wretched,  and  probably  always  was  incomplete,  so  they  are 
much  pleased  to  see  our  cotton,  calicoes,  flannel,  cloths,  shoes, 
etc.,  etc.  They  see  the  work  brings  wages  and  the  wages  bring 
food  and  clothing.  Once  let  this  suspicion  pass  away,  as  is 
likely  with  us,  and  we  shall  have  a  good,  reliable  set  of  hands, 
I  think,  and  what  we  can  do  others  can  do  by  like  means. 
January  was  much  pleased  at  my  whitewashing  beside  him, 
and  spoke  of  it.  We  of  course  do  anything  which  is  to  be  done 
with  our  own  hands,  if  necessary,  and  these  men  compare  it 
with  the  conduct  of  their  former  owners.  It  gives  the  labor  a 
new  aspect  to  them,  and  it  puts  life  into  their  movements. 
All  day  I  direct  personally  these  men  and  women  in  and  about 
the  house  as  to  the  details  of  their  work,  in  the  kitchen,  in  the 
yard,  in  the  overseer's  house,  in  our  house,  and  they  like  it. 
Then  among  us  we  have  done  the  painting  so  far.  M.  does  the 
same  thing  with  the  hands  in  the  field  and  C.  does  the  same 
likewise.  They  believe  us  already,  when  we  say  that  we  shall 
work  for  our  living  and  shall  get  our  crop  in  some  way.    It 


OIL  AND  COTTON  255 

removes  somewhat  the  feeling  of  caste,  and  it  presents  the 
labor  in  a  new  light.  Bye  and  bye,  when  they  see  us  plough 
and  chop  and  hoe,  and  drive  mules  and  clean  horses  as  well 
as  show  them  the  use  of  unknown  tools  like  scythes,  they  will 
feel  still  more  persuaded  to  do  their  whole  duty. 

They  get  their  wages  whenever  they  ask  for  them,  and  are 
already  asking  less  frequently  for  them,  because  the  suspicion 
is  dying  away  that  we  shall  cheat  them.  When  we  can  estab- 
lish a  school  and  teach  them  something  (some  of  them  read 
now),  we  shall  make  another  step  onward;  but  even  now  we 
feel  quite  confident  that  we  shall  get  men  and  women  enough 
to  fill  our  houses  and  to  make  our  crops  for  next  year.  Even 
our  overseer,  who  has  the  regular  Southern  notions  about 
manual  labor,  has  to-day  been  whitewashing  a  little  and  work- 
ing at  his  house  that  is  to  be.  I  was  quite  pleased,  for  that 
class  needs  reforming  and  educating  quite  as  much  as  the 
blacks.  It  will  come  all  in  good  time  —  they  must  work  or  die. 

By  the  middle  of  December  the  "  big  house"  looked  cleaner, 
and  the  Major  left  for  Boston,  to  spend  Christmas  and  to 
bring  back  his  wife.  Her  diary  for  February  9  describes  the 
long  drive  behind  tired  mules  from  Savannah  to  Cottonham. 

"The  branches  of  the  Cherokee  roses  were  green  already, 
and  there  were  pretty  little  yellow  flowers  in  the  swamp. 
...  It  was  too  dark  to  see  our  place  as  we  entered.  Mr. 
Morse  and  Channing  Clapp  came  out  with  a  light  to  the  gate. 
A  bright  fire  was  blazing  on  the  hearth.  The  first  impression 
of  the  house  is  much  more  low  and  homelike  than  I  had  imag- 
ined. The  rooms  looked  clean  but  bare.  The  table  looked 
quite  pleasant,  with  Matilda  standing  near,  grinning  and  curt- 
seying at  every  turn,  and  Mary  also." 

Two  days  later  she  writes  of  the  house-servants:  "They 
have  not  the  remotest  sense  of  time,  any  of  them,  and  are 
forgetful  but  pleasant  in  their  manners,  very  polite  and  kind, 
and  ready  to  learn."  So  far,  so  good. 


256  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

The  cotton-planting  was  now  beginning,  and  the  field-hands 
struck  for  higher  wages.  After  two  days  of  excitement  they 
quieted  down.   Mrs.  Higginson's  diary  notes,  February  14:  — 

"The  darkies  have  been  coming  round  about  the  strike,  now 
that  they  find  they  cannot  stay  unless  they  work,  and  that  no 
credit  is  given  them  in  the  store  unless  they  are  earning  wages. 
Mr.  M.  says  they  really  have  an  attachment  to  the  place  and 
that  is  about  the  only  definite  feeling  he  can  find  that  they 
have,  and  so  they  are  beginning  to  make  and  sign  contracts, 
though  unwillingly.  They  still  do  not  understand  the  value 
of  work  and  wages.  Think  they  ought  to  get  all  their  living 
and  have  wages  besides,  all  extra.  The  men  walked  in  with 
their  old  coats  and  hats,  put  their  finger  on  the  pen  while  Mr. 
M.  made  the  cross,  and  I  was  called  in  as  witness.  The  con- 
tracts run  in  this  way.  Every  family  is  to  have  an  acre  and  \ 
of  land  to  a  full  hand,  and  a  house  and  the  right  to  cut  wood. 
On  their  land  they  can  grow  either  cotton  or  corn,  provided 
it  does  not  interfere  with  the  proper  cultivation  of  the  land 
provided  for.  For  each  acre  cultivated,  about  $8.50,  which 
carries  them  on  to  the  middle  of  July,  then  the  picking,  sorting, 
moting,  by  the  pound.  Two  cents  a  pound  for  packing,  and 
for  extra  labor  $1.00  for  men  per  day  and  less  for  women  and 
boys,  which  would  give  to  a  good,  steady  hand  about  $18.50 
income  of  work  per  acre,  and  all  extra  work  to  be  counted  by 
the  day.  A  good  hand  could  take  about  eight  acres,  and  earn 
about  $200  per  year,  or  somewhat  less,  and  get  his  house, 
his  wood,  and  his  corn  and  cotton  land. 

"The  largest  contract  is  made  with  a  man  named  Samuel, 
who  with  his  family  has  contracted  for  about  thirty-five  acres 
for  this  year,  and  earns  in  wages  about  $800  per  year.  To 
this  they  have  finally  agreed,  after  much  parley. 

"The  house  servants  get  wages  by  the  month:  the  women 
$12  per  month,  the  old  women  about  .75  for  each  washing-day; 
little  Mary  will  have  something  too,  and  Charity  who  helps, 
a  niece  of  Mathilda's,  will  get  .50  per  day,  and  be  dismissed 


00 


o 

< 

P* 


too 


>> 

M 


<:   .5 

i— i 

a 

O 

w 
o 


H 


T3 
S 

£ 


OIL  AND  COTTON  257 

soon,  when  Prince's  wife,  "The  Princess,"  arrives,  who  is  to 
help  about  the  washing.  The  man  David,  Mathilda's  husband, 
carpenter,  gets  $25  per  month  and  his  rations  for  himself  and 
family,  house,  fuel,  but  no  land  to  cultivate.  Prince,  who 
milks  cows,  cuts  wood,  blacks  boots,  is  also  paid  per  month. 
And  this  is  about  the  whole  household.  They  are  good,  active, 
honest  people,  all  of  them." 

After  two  weeks  more  of  experience,  the  kindly  lady  from  the 
North  records  a  somewhat  modified  estimate  of  the  negroes :  — 

' '  We  none  of  us  think  that  if  left  to  themselves  they  would 
have  energy  enough  to  be  really  thrifty  and  prosperous,  no 
matter  how  much  help  they  should  get  in  the  way  of  lands. 
Of  course  there  are  exceptions,  but  they  seem  to  need  super- 
vision, and  spurring  on  and  urging  and  system  to  guide  them, 
which  they  would  not  be  likely  to  have  of  their  own  accord. 
However,  time  will  show,  whether  this  is  merely  the  result 
of  slavery  and  dependence,  or  whether  they  can  ever  be  wholly 
independent." 

And  on  March  9  the  diary  notes:  "Curious  creations  these 
darkies  are.  I  don't  believe  they  could  work,  entirely  left  to 
themselves."  "Ida  works  very  hard  with  her  people,"  the 
Major  wrote  to  his  father.  "She  has  to  teach  them  almost 
everything  except  the  plainest  cooking.  Washing  and  ironing 
were  unknown  to  them." 

Meanwhile  Major  Higginson  was  having  his  own  experiences 
with  the  colored  brethren. 

Do  you  know  [he  writes  home],  that  these  people  eat  at  odd 
times,  standing  up,  sitting  in  the  doorway,  one  by  one,  not 
together?  The  men  very  frequently  say  at  ten  o'clk,  or  some- 
times as  late  as  one  or  two  o'clk,  that  they  must  go  to  their 
breakfasts,  and  I  find  that  man  and  wife  receive  their  wages 
separately,  and  spend  them  separately,  not  paying  each 
other's  debts  at  the  store  nor  sharing  each  other's  money  or 
food.   "Pete,  him  pay  for  him  one,  and  me,  me  pay  for  me 

18 


258  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

one,"  said  a  woman  to  us  yesterday  at  the  store,  she  and  Pete 

being  wife  and  man.    It  is  strange  and  bad.   We  do  not  give 

them  things,  for  various  reasons:  they  had  better  work  for 

everything  now;  they  expect,  and  are  not  grateful  for,  presents, 

and  we  cannot  afford  to  give.    You  never  saw  such  strange 

and  at  the  same  time  unpleasant  work  as  keeping  shop  for 

these  folks.    "Give  me  five  cents'  sugar,"  and  I  change  a 

dollar-bill  and  weigh  out  a  dole  of  sugar.   "Give  me  five  cents' 

hard  bread,"  and  then  "ten  cents'  tobacco,"  and  then  "ten 

cents'  flour"  etc.,  etc.,  each  time  receiving  the  whole  change 

before  ordering  again,  for  this  is  all  the  purchase  of  one  person. 

We  sometimes  try  to  get  all  the  things  before  making  any 

change,  but  do  not  find  it  easy  to  extract  the  orders  in  that 

way. 

Greely  Curtis,  who  had  returned  from  Europe  and  become 
a  financial  backer  of  the  cotton-planting  scheme,  visited  the 
plantation  in  March.  He  was  amused  to  recognize  that  the 
"big  house,"  of  which  he  was  now  part  owner,  was  the  very 
one  at  which  he  had  thrown  a  few  shells,  "just  for  fun,  not 
intending  to  injure  it,"  in  1862,  when  the  Union  gunboat 
Huron  had  shelled  Fort  McAllister. 

By  April  the  crops  were  planted,  the  country  was  ablaze 
with  wild  azaleas,  honeysuckles,  and  Cherokee  roses,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Higginson  had  wonderful  horseback  rides  in  the  late 
afternoons.  He  wrote  his  father:  "I  am  getting  able  to  bear 
considerable  bodily  fatigue  now,  but  am  surprised  to  see  how 
much  less  I  can  bear  or  do  than  at  seventeen."  By  May  1  he 
discovered  that  "incidental  expenses  run  up  a  good  deal"; 
and  as  the  hot  weather  came  on,  there  was  increasing  trouble 
with  fleas,  flies,  mosquitoes,  and  snakes. 

There  was  sickness  among  the  negroes,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Higginson  had  to  prescribe  remedies,  chiefly  quinine,  as  best 
they  could. 

"  They  are  very  strange  people,  these  darkies  [Mrs.  Higgin- 


OIL  AND  COTTON  259 

son  wrote  in  her  diary].  Their  wits  and  intellect  seem  to  me 
far  ahead  of  their  morals.  .  .  .  You  feel  as  if  you  could  not 
influence  them  in  the  least.  .  .  .  When  we  first  came  they 
were  getting  over  the  smallpox,  and  now  all  the  children  have 
the  whooping-cough.  Three  of  them  died.  I  am  quite  in  de- 
spair, as  I  don't  know  exactly  what  to  do  for  them.  I  got  the 
doctor  the  other  day,  a  pale  lounging  vague  man,  who  was  the 
rebel  surgeon  in  Ft.  McAllister,  and  who  gave  me  some  medi- 
cine for  them.  ...  I  have  been  struck  with  the  cheerful  way 
in  which  the  negroes  take  death.  One  young  woman  lost  her 
only  child,  and  looked  as  bright  as  possible  when  I  spoke  to 
her  about  it.  I  don't  think  it  is  indifference,  and  don't  know 
what  it  is." 

Mrs.  Higginson  had  now  started  a  little  school  for  the  negro 
children,  and  by  June  she  and  her  husband  were  teaching 
reading  and  writing  to  a  class  of  fifteen.  "As  for  the  blacks," 
the  Major  writes  to  his  father,  "their  future  is  a  mystery  as 
dark  as  their  own  skins.  They  have  understanding  and  quick- 
ness enough.  .  .  .  They  learn  quickly,  comprehend  easily, 
both  as  regards  work  and  in  school.  But  their  moral  percep- 
tions are  deficient,  either  from  nature  or  from  habit  or  from 
ignorance.  They  know  that  it  is  wrong  to  steal  and  lie,  but 
they  do  it  continually." 

One  Sunday,  when  the  Major  was  preaching  to  the  negroes 
in  their  church,  —  a  discourse  unfortunately  unreported,  — 
Mrs.  Higginson  "preached  in  the  kitchen  to  Jane,  Mary,  and 
the  old  lady,  Mathilda  having  gone  on  a  spree.  The  text  was 
the  parable  of  the  sower  of  seeds.  I  wonder  if  they  understood 
one  half  of  what  I  said." 

The  cotton  was  blossoming  beautifully  by  the  end  of  June; 
the  Major  had  his  two  war  horses,  "Piggy"  and  "the  gray," 
for  riding;  and  though  the  weather  grew  intensely  hot,  and 
the  drinking-water  from  the  shallow  wells  was  bad,  and  food- 
supplies  difficult  to  obtain,  the  Northerners  kept  up  their 
courage. 


260  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

We  had  some  nice-looking  cows  which  gave  very  little  milk 
[says  Mr.  Higginson's  Reminiscences],  and  a  large  abundance 
of  pigs.  The  house  was  raised  from  the  ground  two  or  three 
feet,  as  is  customary  there,  for  there  are  no  cellars.  The 
pigs  used  to  come  under  the  house  and  rub  and  squeal  and 
fight.  Therefore,  we  made  up  our  minds  that  we  would  give 
those  pigs  away.  We  called  all  the  negroes  into  the  yard,  and 
told  them  that  each  family  was  to  have  one  large  pig,  one  mid- 
dle-sized pig  and  one  little  pig,  and  in  that  way  we  got  rid  of 
all  of  them.  By  and  by  we  did  the  same  thing  with  the  cows 
—  that  is,  killed  them,  and  divided  the  beef  among  our  people. 

It  is  not  until  the  ioth  of  July  that  there  is  any  hint  of 
disappointment  with  the  cotton  crop.  "I  am  in  hopes," 
writes  the  Major  to  his  father,  "that  we  shall  harvest  25,000 
lbs.  of  ginned  cotton,  which  at  80  cents  would  give  us  $20,000; 
some  drawbacks  are  of  course  to  be  reckoned  out.  If  insects 
should  attack  the  cotton,  we  may  not  get  more  than  15,000 
lbs.,  say  $12,000,  which  would  about  cover  our  wages  for 
the  year  '66.   But  I  hope  for  a  better  result  than  this." 

Such  was  the  situation  when  he  took  Mrs.  Higginson  north 
in  August.  Returning  alone,  early  in  September,  he  writes 
his  father  that  the  cotton  is  "  in  fair  condition,  though  no  more, 
in  consequence  of  the  drought."  Picking  had  begun,  and  the 
negroes  were  content  with  their  lot. 

They  help  each  other  [wrote  the  Major]  in  picking  the  differ- 
ent patches  of  cotton,  as  it  opens,  and  get  so  much  per  lb.  for 
all  picked.  It  is  an  encouragement  to  them  to  cultivate  well 
and  raise  as  much  as  possible  off  their  patches,  for  each  family 
picks  its  own  ground.  If  they  receive  help  on  it,  they  return 
help,  not  money.  Of  course  a  woman  can  pick  cotton  (or 
berries)  more  quickly  from  an  acre  bearing  well  than  from 
two  acres  bearing  ill.  Last  week  we  paid  one  woman,  who  has 
a  husband  and  two  children  of  fifteen  or  so  working  with  her, 


OIL  AND  COTTON  261 

$20  for  four  days'  work.  During  the  rest  of  the  time  they  were 
earning  more  money  on  other  work.  As  I  was  writing  to  Ida 
to-night,  this  plan  of  payment  seems  to  us  better  than  giving 
a  share  in  the  crop,  because  the  laborer  with  empty  pockets 
risks  a  bad  or  a  good  season,  has  to  seek  advances  continually 
of  which  he  can  keep  no  account,  thereby  complicating  the 
settlement,  and  then  has  to  wait  a  long  time  for  the  prepara- 
tion, marketing  and  sale  of  the  crop. 

But  two  days  later  he  is  obliged  to  write:  "The  continual 
rains  are  injuring  our  crop  considerably.  Yesterday  we  had 
two  tremendous  showers  lasting  several  hours  altogether,  and 
to-day  we  found  quite  a  lot  of  cotton  beaten  out  and  lying 
dirty  and  useless  in  the  sand."  On  the  fine  days  in  October  he 
was  busy  picking  and  weighing  cotton;  and  occasionally  he 
rode  off  on  "Piggy"  for  a  shot  at  a  wild  turkey  or  a  rabbit. 
But  he  was  worried  about  the  crop.  If  the  rains  could  only 
have  come  in  the  summer  instead  of  the  fall!  "It  has  cut  off 
all  our  profit,  I  fancy,"  he  confides  to  his  father  on  Novem- 
ber 4.  Yet  at  the  same  time  he  was  writing  to  his  wife,  who 
was  troubled  over  their  expenses:  "  Please  remember  that  one 
great  reason  for  our  coming  here  was  the  work  of  great  impor- 
tance to  be  done  for  these  blacks.  Money  is  less  valuable  than 
time  and  thought  and  labor,  which  you  have  given  and  will 
give  freely.  ...  DO  NOT  FRET  ABOUT  ACCOUNTS!!!! 
Money  is  to  be  spent  wisely,  not  hoarded  forever." 

He  was  never  to  write  more  characteristic  words  than  these ; 
and  he  had  jumped  up  twice  as  he  was  writing  them,  to  fire 
at  a  hawk  that  was  just  then  stealing  his  chickens! 

"We  have  made  about  half  a  crop;"  he  tells  his  father  on 
November  17,  "and  seem  likely  to  get  a  low  price  for  our  best 
cotton.  ...  So  we  have  lost  a  good  deal  of  money." 

And  in  December  he  writes  from  Savannah :  — 

We  have  just  about  12,000  lbs.  of  clean  cotton  and  are  done 
ginning.   I  find  the  prices  lower  and  the  market  very  dull  here 


262  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

to-day.  I  am  a  little  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do.  Present 
prices  are  not  enough  to  compensate  at  all  for  the  year's  work 
and  outlay.  ...  It  has  cost  about  $16,500  to  make  our  crop, 
and  we  shall  get  $9000  to  $10,000  for  it,  we  hope.  A  good 
crop  at  $1.00  a  lb.  would  have  given  $25,000.  There  is  the 
whole  story. 

Here  ended  the  first  lesson.  The  second  lesson  was  shorter. 
Was  it  worth  while  to  remain? 

"I  think  that  common  sense  and  my  own  good  name 
for  courage  and  persistency  demand  that  the  experiment  be 
fairly  tried,"  wrote  the  Major  manfully.  Mrs.  Higginson,  with 
Channing  Clapp's  mother,  had  arrived  in  time  for  the  Christ- 
mas preparations,  and  there  was  a  great  tree,  with  presents  for 
all  the  women  and  children  on  the  plantation,  and  candy  for 
everybody.  "A  bery  elegant  entertainment,"  declared  Ma- 
thilda; but  Mrs.  Higginson  confessed  in  her  diary  to  "disap- 
pointment at  not  hearing  more  expressions  of  delight  from 
these  imperturbable  darks.  .  .  .  The  more  I  see  of  them, 
the  more  inscrutable  do  they  become,  and  the  less  do  I  like 
them." 

The  housemaids  left  immediately  after  Christmas.  "The 
old  year  finished  rather  gloomily  with  the  whole  day  spent  in 
the  cold  wet  washroom,  instructing  'Amy'  from  our  village 
about  washing."  Then  arrived  a  certain  ragged  and  foul 
Lavinia.  "I  took  her  to  the  washroom,"  continues  Mrs. 
Higginson's  Diary,  "where  there  was  a  big  fire,  filled  a  bucket 
with  warm  water  and  proceeded."  (Miss  Ophelia,  of  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  would  have  liked  that  reticent  word  "pro- 
ceeded" !)  But  Lavinia,  once  scrubbed  and  dressed  in  some  old 
clothes  of  her  mistress,  proved  a  cheerful  person,  and  could  re- 
peat the  Lord's  Prayer. 

By  the  middle  of  January  all  the  field  hands  threatened  to 
leave.  "  Perhaps  we  shall  not  plant  at  all,"  wrote  Henry  to  his 
father,  "for  our  people  may  clear  out.  One  can  never  tell  in 
this  blessed  land.    These  darkies  have  been  very  well  paid, 


OIL  AND  COTTON  263 

kindly  treated,  taught,  helped  by  us,  but  they  feel  no  gratitude 
for  all  this,  and  may  go  any  day."  Soon  they  signed  the  con- 
tracts for  1867,  but  Henry  writes  to  his  father  that  the  part- 
ners had  spent  $20,155,  including  interest,  in  raising  the  1866 
crop,  and  that  it  "may  bring  us  $10,000.  I  am  at  present 
rather  looking  forward  to  leaving  this  place  in  the  summer  for 
good  .  .  .  exceedingly  unwilling  as  I  am  to  make  another 
move.  If  I  could  earn  $1500  a  year  at  the  North,  I  could  live 
there." 

He  adds  in  his  next  letter:  — 

I  should  have  done  better  to  enter  your  office  in  '64  as  a  paid 
clerk  with  a  prospect  of  becoming  partner:  indeed  should  do 
so  now,  if  that  were  possible.  Still  this  work,  embracing  as  it 
does  the  whole  black  question,  is  highly  useful  and  important. 
If  I  were  rich  enough  to  disregard  gains,  and  could  spend  some- 
thing on  the  welfare  of  the  blacks,  Ida  and  I  could  doubtless 
produce  some  satisfactory  results  in  a  few  years.  A  little 
money  put  into  better  houses  and  into  the  simplest  home- 
comforts  would  tell  greatly. 

One  reason,  doubtless,  for  Henry's  restlessness  in  February, 
1867,  was  the  sudden  change  in  the  Higginson  family  affairs. 
Grandfather  Lee  had  just  died,  after  years  of  invalidism,  and 
had  left  an  unexpectedly  large  bequest  to  George  Higginson, 
in  trust  for  his  children.  James  J.  Higginson  had  entered  a 
broker's  office,  and  F.  L.  Higginson  had  gone  to  work  with  Lee, 
Higginson  and  Co.  Alexander  Agassiz  and  Quincy  Shaw, 
brothers-in-law  of  Henry  Higginson,  had  secured  control  of 
the  Calumet  and  Hecla  mines  in  Michigan,  and  were  beginning 
to  see  results  beyond  their  most  sanguine  expectations;  in 
fact,  "beyond  the  wildest  dreams  of  copper  men."1  George 
Higginson,  cautious  as  he  was  by  nature,  and  unfortunate  as 

1  See  Agassiz's  letter  to  H.  L.  H.,  Feb.  3,  1867,  in  Letters  and  Recollections  of 
Alexander  Agassiz,  p.  58. 


264  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

his  ventures  had  often  proved,  was  buying  all  the  Calumet  and 
Hecla  he  could  carry,  and  his  children  did  likewise. 

I  think  that  we  had  better  hold  the  Calumet  [wrote  Henry 
on  February  15]  and  I  sincerely  wish  that  I  had  much  more. 
If  I  could  have  had  1000  shares  at  $20,  it  would  have  been 
pleasant  in  the  present  state  of  the  market.  I  know  that  cop- 
pers are  very  risky,  but  a  mine  of  such  promise,  well  managed, 
should  be  good  property.  If  you  should  think  it  wise  and  it  is 
possible,  I  should  much  like  to  put  something  more  into  Calu- 
met or  Hecla,  say  $1000  to  $2000.  Jim  can  ascertain  from  Alex, 
I  think,  the  comparative  value,  but  I  should  fancy  Hecla  at  $50 
cheaper  than  Calumet  at  $75.  I  cannot  feel  very  sure  as  to  the 
move,  for  I  have  made  several  bad  strokes  —  in  the  "Tremont 
Oil  Co."  —  in  selling  a  share  of  "  Norway  Plains"  —  in  buying 
"Washington."  Quin  and  Alex,  with  their  knowledge  of  just 
this  business,  with  their  ability,  honesty,  industry,  nerve,  and 
power  (in  the  way  of  money) ,  and  with  their  complete  control 
of  these  mines,  give  me  faith  in  them  as  an  investment. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  Henry's  imagination  played  around 
Lake  Superior  and  Boston  while  the  spring  ploughing  was 
going  forward  at  Cottonham.  Minor  annoyances  increased. 
The  house-servants  stole.  Supplies  were  stolen  from  the  ex- 
press office  at  Way's  Station,  and  from  the  wharf  at  Savannah. 
"  It  does  require  the  patience  and  purse  of  a  Job  to  stand  it." 

More  serious  than  these  petty  losses  was  the  discovery  that 
the  suave  Mr.  Rogers  had  really  owned  only  2500  of  the  5000 
acres  which  he  had  sold  to  the  unsuspecting  Yankees.  Their 
title  to  one  half  of  the  plantation  was  worthless.  They  brought 
suit,  but  were  able  to  recover  very  little.1  Always,  in  the  back- 
ground, there  was  the  insoluble  race  question.  Higginson 
wrote  in  April :  — 

1  Colonel  C.  F.  Morse  charitably  suggests  (1921)  that,  though  Rogers  cheated 
them,  it  is  possible  that  he  really  did  not  know  how  much  land  he  owned. 


OIL  AND  COTTON  265 

The  black  population  must  be  helped  towards  civilization  of 
any  kind,  if  we  wish  to  see  any  result  within  a  reasonable  time. 
The  Southerners  cannot  help  them  for  various  reasons :  because 
they  hate  and  despise  them,  because  they,  the  whites,  are  too 
lazy,  because  they  are  too  ignorant  and  uncivilized.  It  is  a 
long,  long  struggle  against  ignorance,  prejudice  and  laziness. 
The  blacks  will  advance,  if  they  are  led,  and  if  they  will  trust 
anyone.  Now  they  cannot  be  induced  to  talk,  to  ask  questions. 
They  will  listen,  but  not  heed  much  from  a  white  man. 

The  heat  increased.  Higginson  had  sound  ideas  about  ma- 
nuring for  cotton,  and  the  Egyptian  seeds,  procured  through 
the  friendly  Edward  Atkinson,  —  a  "projector"  after  Defoe's 
own  heart,  —  sprouted  vigorously.  But  rats  and  mice  and  fleas 
and  malaria  flourished  likewise.  Channing  Clapp  decided  to 
leave.  George  Higginson,  paternally  concerned  for  Henry's 
future,  advised  him  to  give  up:  "Alex"  and  "Quin"  might 
make  a  place  for  him  at  the  mines,  or  there  might  be  a  chance 
for  a  clerkship  in  some  London  banking  house.  Mrs.  Higgin- 
son wanted  to  stay  at  least  a  year  longer.  "We  had  better  not 
leave  this  place  till  we  have  at  least  been  of  some  trifling  use  in 
some  way  or  other."  But  she  had  already  had  a  touch  of 
malaria,  and  her  husband  grew  more  and  more  anxious  about 
her.   On  May  9  she  writes  in  her  diary :  — 

"It  is  discouraging  to  see  how  utterly  wanting  in  character 
and  conscience  these  people  seem  to  be,  and  how  much  more 
hopeful  they  appear  at  a  distance  than  near  to.  Henry  and  I 
have  had  quite  a  long  talk  about  going  home.  It  is  pretty  cer- 
tain that  we  shall  not  come  back  again  to  stay.  Henry  at  any 
rate  means  to  try  to  get  employment  at  the  North,  and  only 
come  back  to  settle  his  affairs  here.  ...  I  am  sorry,  for  I  shall 
leave  this  place  with  a  sense  of  utter  failure.  Failure  to  do  any 
good,  except  the  little  I  have  done  in  school.  Failure  to  man- 
age the  blacks  well  and  quietly  as  servants ;  but  I  have  learnt  a 
great  deal,  and  I  suppose  if  I  keep  that  in  view,  and  remember 


266  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

it  and  also  the  errors,  to  avoid  them  in  future,  it  will  not  be 
time  lost,  at  least  not  personally." 

A  few  days  later  Henry  Higginson's  copies  of  the  New  York 
"Evening  Post,"  the  "Nation,"  the  "Spectator,"  "Littell's," 
and  the  "Revue  des  Deux  Mondes"  were  ordered  to  be  sent  to 
44  State  Street,  Boston.  The  books  were  packed,  presents 
were  distributed  to  the  schoolchildren  and  house- servants, 
and  at  midnight  on  the  twenty-first  the  Higginsons  started 
North.   It  was  another  failure. 

Colonel  Morse  stayed  on  at  Cottonham,  though  he  had 
"come  to  the  conclusion  that  all  the  money  ever  made  there 
[before  the  war]  was  made  in  live  stock  —  that  is,  in  negroes. 
The  cotton  perhaps  paid  the  expenses,  and  when  they  needed 
a  little  money,  they  sold  a  negro."  But  this  convenient  solu- 
tion of  the  financial  problem  was  now  out  of  date.  The  crop  of 
1867  looked  promising  until  September,  when  the  caterpillars 
suddenly  appeared  and  ruined  it.  When  the  Massachusetts 
men  finally  settled  their  accounts,  they  found  that  their  ex- 
perience had  cost  them  about  $65,000.  "We  sold  the  planta- 
tion," said  Higginson,  "for  $5000,  and  were  glad  to  be  rid  of 
it."  Channing  Clapp,  writing  from  New  Orleans  on  Decem- 
ber 22,  1867,  is  equally  terse:  "What  a  d d  piece  of  busi- 
ness the  whole  thing  is!  " 

Yet  that  is  too  profane  an  ending  for  the  second  lesson.   If 

Henry  Higginson  had  been  a  prophet,  he  might  have  chanted, 

with  Tagore :  — 

My  sword  is  forged,  my  armor  is  put  on,  my  horse  is  eager  to  run. 
I  shall  win  my  kingdom. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY 

We  have  kept  our  hands  clean.  It  has  come  from  old  John  Lee  and  George 
Higginson.  —  H.  L.  H.  June  20,  1919. 

On  January  1,  1868,  Henry  Higginson  became  a  partner  in 
Lee,  Higginson  and  Co.  He  remained  a  member  of  the  firm 
until  his  death,  more  than  fifty  years  later.  The  chances  and 
changes  of  his  venturesome  youth  and  early  manhood  were  at 
last  behind  him.  He  had  come  to  anchor  in  State  Street.  Cer- 
tainly it  was  not  the  port  he  had  first  looked  for,  and  some  of 
his  lifelong  intimates,  while  fully  recognizing  his  success,  per- 
sisted in  thinking  him  temperamentally  out  of  tune  with  his 
calling.  He  once  said,  in  fact,  to  a  near  kinsman,  that  he  never 
walked  into  44  State  Street  without  wanting  to  sit  down  on 
the  doorstep  and  cry.  No  doubt  he  meant  at  the  moment  — 
or  thought  he  meant  —  quite  what  he  said.1 

But  Mr.  Higginson's  simple  and  forthright  habit  of  speech 
was  often  the  disguise  for  very  complex  emotional  moods.  He 
was  almost  as  far  as  Lincoln  from  being  a  simple-minded  man. 
It  is  not  recorded  that  this  lover  of  music  ever  did  sit  down 
and  weep  in  State  Street,  either  through  self-pity,  or  through 

1  "As  a  matter  of  fact,"  comments  one  of  his  partners,  "  Mr.  Higginson  loved  to 
be  in  this  office;  it  was  very  hard  to  get  him  out  of  it  for  a  day  —  even  a  single 
Saturday.  He  seemed  to  me  always,  during  the  twenty  years  I  was  associated 
with  him,  to  wake  up  every  morning  with  an  eager  desire  to  be  in  his  office  and  to 
be  there  for  the  day,  and  to  be  nowhere  else.  ...  He  was  much  more  interested 
in  the  venture  side  of  business  than  in  mere  buying  at  wholesale  and  selling  at 
retail.  .  .  .  Between  his  love  of  adventure,  as  applied  to  business  (I  might  say 
almost  passion  for  adventure),  and  his  often  fallacious  judgment  of  men,  there  is 
no  doubt  he  not  only  loved  to  be  in  his  office,  but  also  at  times  endured  much 
anxiety  and  almost  agony.  I  can  perfectly  understand  his  saying  some  day  to  a 
friend  that  he  felt  like  sitting  down  on  the  doorstep  and  crying.  It  represented  a 
mood  for  that  day  and  very  likely  some  anxiety  or  depression  which  bore  heavily 
just  then  upon  him." 


268  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

instinctive  antagonism  to  his  environment.  What  is  certain  is 
that  he  worked  and  laughed  there  for  half  a  century;  that  there 
he  bought  and  sold,  worried,  dreamed,  was  angered  and  re- 
lented, served  his  partners  and  assisted  his  friends,  forgot  some- 
times to  look  at  the  debit  side  of  accounts,  but  on  the  whole 
was  clearly  and  greatly  disobedient  to  Charles  Lowell's  injunc- 
tion, "Don't  grow  rich."  Europe  and  Virginia,  Ohio  and 
Georgia,  had  helped  to  fashion  him,  but  it  was  State  Street, 
after  all,  that  gave  him  opportunity  to  render  an  unmatched 
service  to  the  community. 

In  some  notes  on  the  history  of  Lee,  Higginson  and  Co., 
dictated  late  in  life,  Henry  Higginson  thus  describes  the  origin 
of  the  firm:  — 

In  the  year  1848  Mr.  John  C.  Lee,  of  Salem,  and  Mr.  George 
Higginson,  of  Boston,  who  were  cousins  by  marriage,  joined 
hands  in  making  a  stock-brokerage  house,  and  established 
themselves  in  State  Street  on  the  southern  side,  over  the  old 
Boylston  insurance  office.1  They  were  men  of  about  forty-four 
or  forty-five  years,  and  had  had  some  experience  in  business. 
Mr.  Lee  had  inherited  some  money,  and  had  gone  on  quietly, 
not  doing  much  in  an  active  way.  Mr.  Higginson,  from  the 
age  of  twenty-one,  had  been  a  commission  agent  in  New  York, 
where  he  had  lived  and  worked  with  a  cousin  until  the  year 
1837,  when  he  failed,  as  so  many  did.  Then  he  came  to  Boston 
with  his  wife  and  three  children,  and  undertook  a  small  com- 
mission business  in  merchandise,  which  he  carried  on  from 
that  time  until  he  established  himself  as  a  stockbroker.  In 
these  ten  years  he  earned  very  little  —  just  enough  to  keep  the 
wolf  from  the  door.   .  .  . 

When  Mr.  Lee  went  into  business  he  had  nine  children,  and, 
therefore,  probably  felt  the  need  of  a  little  more  money.  He 
always  had  lived  in  a  beautiful  house  in  Chestnut  Street, 
Salem,  and  amused  himself  with  a  garden  in  the  neighborhood. 

1  The  Exchange  Building  now  stands  on  this  site. 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  269 

The  house  of  Lee  and  Higginson  began  by  getting  a  fair 
share  of  the  brokerage  business,  Mr.  Lee  being  the  partner  in 
the  office,  and  Mr.  Higginson  being  the  partner  in  the  brokers' 
Board  and  outside.  Neither  of  them  ever  earned  so  much 
money  as  they  did  in  those  years,  but  it  was  very  little  after 
all. 

Mr.  George  C.  Lee,  son  of  Mr.  John  C.  Lee,  was  taken  in  as 
a  clerk  after  leaving  college,  and  on  April  1,  1853,  Mr.  Henry 
Lee  (Jr.)  —  who  was  Mr.  Higginson's  brother-in-law,  and  who 
had  had  considerable  success  as  an  East  India  merchant  — 
and  Mr.  George  C.  Lee  were  admitted  to  partnership.  The 
firm  at  that  time  opened  an  account  with  Messrs.  Baring 
Brothers  and  Co.,  and  used  to  draw  on  that  house,  doing  in 
this  way  a  considerable  business  in  exchange  and  in  notes  re- 
ceivable. The  house  used  to  buy  the  best  paper,  chiefly  mill 
paper,  and  also  executed  such  orders  as  it  received.  This  went 
on  for  some  years  until  the  Civil  War  broke  out,  when,  owing 
to  the  fluctuations  in  gold,  they  thought  an  exchange  account 
too  dangerous  and,  therefore,  gave  it  up. 

In  the  first  five  years  the  firm  of  Lee  and  Higginson  em- 
ployed no  clerk  except  at  periods  of  special  pressure.  When 
Colonel  Henry  Lee  and  Mr.  George  C.  Lee  were  admitted  to 
partnership  in  1853,  the  name  of  the  firm  became  "Lee,  Hig- 
ginson and  Co.,"  and  its  importance  increased.  They  moved 
into  the  back  part  of  No.  44  State  Street.  Colonel  Henry  Lee, 
even  in  his  youth,  was  a  notable  figure  in  Boston.1  Mr.  George 
C.  Lee,  whose  partnership  lasted  57  years,  until  his  death  in 
1910,  was  prudent,  assiduous,  a  lover  of  detail.  Both  Colonel 
Henry  Lee  and  Mr.  John  C.  Lee  had  the  confidence  of  the  busi- 
ness community.  The  Civil  War  brought  some  changes  in  the 
activities  of  the  firm.  John  C.  Lee  retired  at  the  end  of  1862, 
and  Colonel  Henry  Lee's  patriotic  services  at  the  State  House 
demanded  a  large  portion  of  his  energy.    George  Higginson 

1  See  the  Memoir  of  Henry  Lee,  by  J.  T.  Morse,  Jr.,  Boston,  1905. 


270  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

and  George  C.  Lee  divided  the  Stock  Exchange  work  —  a  seat 
then  costing  but  $100. 

In  1867  Colonel  Henry  Lee  hit  upon  a  plan  for  constructing 
a  safety  vault  under  No.  40  State  Street.  This  building  was 
owned  by  his  family. 

"Always  skillful  in  real  estate  affairs,"  says  Prof  essor  Barrett 
Wendell,1  he  conceived  the  plan  of  excavating,  under  the  build- 
ing where  his  firm  had  its  offices,  the  first  safety-deposit  vaults 
in  Boston,  which  long  remained  the  most  satisfactory  in  the 
United  States,  and  indeed  have  been  held  the  models  from 
which  later  ones  have  since  developed  everywhere.  They  were 
constructed  slowly  and  with  every  imaginable  care:  for  one 
thing,  the  strength  of  their  roof  was  tested  by  dropping  a  large 
safe  on  it  from  a  height  of  four  or  five  stories.  They  were  not 
ready  for  use  until  1868 ;  since  that  time,  for  a  full  half-century, 
they  have  been  the  principal  depository  of  the  securities  held 
in  Boston.  They  have  long  been  incorporated  as  the  Union 
Safe  Deposit  Vaults.  Though  never  a  part  of  the  business  of 
Lee,  Higginson  and  Company,  they  have  always  stayed  close 
to  it,  both  physically  and  in  management.  The  general  confi- 
dence implied  by  such  an  institution  can  hardly  be  exaggerated; 
and,  incidentally,  it  is  pleasant  to  think  that  Mr.  Schuyler 
Bartlett,  who  came  into  the  service  of  the  vaults  when  they 
were  opened  in  1868,  is  still  at  his  responsible  post  there  in 
1918."2 

"Mr.  Henry  Lee  began  by  passing  four  days  of  the  week 
there,"  notes  Mr.  Higginson,  "and  Mr.  George  C.  Lee  passed 
two  days;  presently  Mr.  George  C.  Lee  passed  four  days  in  the 
vaults  and  Mr.  Henry  Lee  two  days;  and  before  long  Mr. 
George  C.  Lee  passed  all  his  time  there,  and  Mr.  Henry  Lee 
went  in  when  he  chose." 

Such  was  the  situation  at  40  and  44  State  Street  on  January  1, 
1868,  when  the  new  partner  joined  the  firm.  His  father  had 

1  In  an  unpublished  sketch  of  the  history  of  the  firm. 
1  He  is  still  there  in  1921. 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  271 

been  in  the  business  twenty  years ;  his  younger  brother  Frank 
was  as  yet  only  a  clerk.  Henry  Higginson  loved  to  insist  that 
he  himself  was  not  really  wanted.  "  I  was  taken  in  at  the  be- 
ginning of  1868  as  a  matter  of  charity,  to  keep  me  out  of  the 
poorhouse ;  I  had  been  in  the  War,  had  been  planting  cotton  at 
the  South,  and  lost  all  I  had,  and  more  too."  l 

In  the  notes  dictated  in  191 2,  and  already  quoted  in  part, 
he  said :  — 

Mr.  Henry  L.  Higginson,  knowing  that  he  was  not  wanted 
in  the  firm  and  having  to  make  his  place  good,  worked  as  hard 
as  possible  to  draw  in  business.  At  the  time  he  joined  the  firm 
he  was  $10,000  or  $12,000  under  water.  [He  was  sent  at  once 
into  the  Stock  Exchange,  alternating  there  with  Mr.  George 
C.  Lee.]  On  Jan.  1,  1869  [the  notes  continue],  Mr.  F.  L.  Hig- 
ginson and  John  C.  Bancroft  were  taken  into  the  firm  as 
partners.  Mr.  Bancroft  remained  18  months,  and  then  went 
away,  as  business  was  distasteful  to  him.  Mr.  F.  L.  Hig- 
ginson was  a  man  of  unusual  ability,  quickness  of  mind  and 
shrewdness,  with  the  highest  kind  of  character;  and  he  was  the 
most  brilliant  partner  that  the  house  ever  had.  When  he 
came  back  from  Europe  he  took  hold  of  the  business  in  earnest, 
and  helped  to  increase  it  very  much.2 

Mr.  John  T.  Morse,  in  his  noteworthy  sketch  of  Major  Hig- 
ginson,3 comments  thus  upon  the  stock-brokerage  firm  of  Lee, 
Higginson  and  Co.  in  this  period :  — 

"  It  was  already  a  good  business  and  rapidly  growing.  It  is 
true  that  one  had  not  to  look  back  far  to  see  one  or  two  brokers 
running  about  State  Street  and  trying  to  get  someone  to  buy 
or  to  sell  a  few  shares  of  a  cotton  mill  or  one  of  the  little  New 

1  Letter  to  De  Forest  Candee,  1908. 

2  "My  brother,  F.  L.  Higginson,  and  I  got  out  in  front  here  at  44  State  Street, 
and  we  thought  that  was  a  great  stroke.  Then  we  got  our  50  State  Street,  and  that 
was  better."   H.  L.  H.  Talk  to  Bond  Salesmen,  Oct.  9,  1919. 

3  Proceedings  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  vol.  53,  p.  116.  Also  printed  in 
Harvard  Graduates'  Magazine,  March,  1920. 


272  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

England  railroads,  and  thus  doing  all  the  brokerage  business 
that  offered.  But  within  a  few  years  a  new  situation  had  de- 
veloped. The  lavish  outpouring  of  bonds  and  stock  by  the 
new  Western  railroads,  the  impetus  given  by  the  war  to  manu- 
facturing industries,  the  flood  of  paper  money,  the  issues  of 
Government  bonds  with  tempting  fluctuations  in  price,  the 
speculation  in  gold,  the  gambling  in  the  cheap  'coppers,'  all 
combined  to  make  a  stock  exchange  which  would  have  dazed 
the  old-time  broker.  The  family  and  social  connections  of  the 
firm  assured  to  it  the  best  possible  clientele ;  there  was  sufficient 
capital;  the  partners  had  the  highest  standing  in  point  of 
character;  thus,  all  else  being  propitious,  it  remained  only  for 
them  to  make  good  in  point  of  ability,  and  this  they  proceeded 
to  do.  .  .  . 

"Further,  the  firm  owed  in  some  measure  to  family  alliances 
its  well-advised  connections  with  the  best  financial  enterprises 
of  the  day.  Thus  in  the  case  of  the  great  Calumet  and  Hecla 
Copper  Mine,  mother  of  fortunes,  and  fruit  of  the  resolute 
faith  of  Quincy  Shaw,  the  scientific  knowledge  of  Alexander 
Agassiz,  the  practical  energy  of  both  —  these  two  brothers-in- 
law  of  Major  Higginson  naturally  brought  their  gallant  bird 
to  deposit  her  golden  (or  copper)  eggs  in  the  nest  at  40  State 
Street." 

The  Calumet  and  Hecla  shares,  as  some  persons  still  rue- 
fully remember,  were  originally  offered  at  $12.50,  and  had 
been  sold  as  low  as  $5.00.  Since  then,  they  have  touched 
$1000.  Mr.  George  Higginson  had  been  a  director  from  the 
first,  and  his  children,  ever  since  Alexander  Agassiz's  letter  to 
Henry  Higginson  in  February,  1867,  had  invested  in  the  mines 
to  the  extent  of  their  ability.  "Our  office  was  a  sort  of  head- 
quarters for  the  property,"  said  Mr.  Higginson,  "and  our 
friends  bought  a  great  many  shares."  But  those  dizzying  hopes 
of  1867  were  followed  by  a  period  of  discouragement.  Alexan- 
der Agassiz's  lonely  and  heroic  struggles  at  Lake  Superior  — 
recorded  in  chapter  iv  of  his  biography  —  ultimately  saved 
the  situation;  but  the  first  dividend  from  the  Hecla  mine  was 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  273 

not  paid  until  December,  1869,  and  the  first  dividend  from  the 
Calumet  in  August,  1870.  The  consolidation  of  the  mines 
followed  in  1871,  and  the  subsequent  record  of  the  property  is 
written  large  in  the  memory  of  Bostonians.  But  the  unwritten 
history  of  the  public  and  private  benefactions  —  scientific, 
artistic,  philanthropic  —  made  possible  by  Calumet  and  Hecla, 
and  its  influence  upon  certain  family  histories,  is  a  theme 
worthy  of  Balzac. 

The  construction  of  Western  railroads,  and  particularly  the 
Chicago,  Burlington  and  Quincy,  a  Boston  enterprise,  afforded 
another  great  field  for  the  activities  of  Lee,  Higginson  and  Co. 
The  New  England  energy  and  daring,  which  had  once  found 
its  outlet  in  foreign  commerce,  now  turned  to  the  development 
of  the  West.  It  is  curious  to  remember  that  John  M.  Forbes, 
who  had  begun  his  career  in  the  China  trade,  had  written  to 
his  brother  in  1836:  — 

"By  no  means  invest  any  funds  of  mine  in  railway  stocks. 
...  I  have  good  reasons  to  believe,  from  all  I  can  learn  of  the 
English  railways,  that  ours  will  prove  a  failure  after  the  first 
few  years;  the  wear  and  tear  proves  ruinous.  At  any  rate, 
keep  clear  of  them.  Three  ships  going  this  week." 

Yet  only  ten  years  later,  when  it  became  apparent  that 
steamships  and  tariffs  would  ultimately  ruin  the  Boston  China 
trade,  Mr.  Forbes  turned  shrewdly  to  the  despised  "railway 
stocks."  He  became  President  of  the  Michigan  Central  Rail- 
road in  1846,  and  raised  millions  for  its  equipment.  Then  he 
became  President  of  the  Chicago,  Burlington  and  Quincy. 
One  of  his  directors  was  General  Charles  Jackson  Paine  —  a 
Bedford  Place  boy  and  cousin  of  Henry  Higginson.  Paine  "sat 
habitually,"  says  J.  T.  Morse,  "in  the  office  of  Lee,  Higginson 
and  Co.,  where  he  could  be  seen  almost  any  forenoon,  en- 
sconced in  a  comfortable  armchair,  handsome,  silent,  puffing  at 
a  cigar  which  seemed  never  to  have  had  a  beginning  and  cer- 
tainly never  had  an  end.  If  the  firm  sought  information,  it  was 
there  at  hand." 

The  firm  did  seek  information,  exact  and  dispassionate, 
19 


274  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

about  the  condition  of  all  the  properties  in  whose  stocks  and 
bonds  it  was  dealing.  It  was  one  of  the  pioneers  in  the  prac- 
tice of  securing  statistical  information,  and  placing  it  at  the 
disposal  of  its  clients.  But  it  was  before  the  days  of  card- 
indexes  and  filing  cabinets,  and  it  exemplified  Goethe's  theory 
that  the  best  encyclopaedia  is  a  man  who  is  well  posted.  The 
Lees  and  Higginsons  were  not  only  well  posted  as  to  the  value 
of  securities,  but  were  known  to  be  honest  men.  Much  of  the 
initiative  in  widening  the  firm's  business,  in  the  five  years  be- 
tween 1868  and  1873,  was  due  to  the  younger  partners,  the 
Higginson  brothers.  The  strain  was  at  times  fierce  and  ex- 
hausting; not  all  mines  were  Calumets  nor  all  railroads  "C.  B. 
and  Q.'s."  The  days  of  darkness  were  many.  In  the  autumn 
of  1868  there  was  a  bad  time  in  the  stock  market,  and  in  1869, 
(September  24)  came  "  Black  Friday"  —  the  gold  panic  due  to 
the  machinations  of  Fisk  and  Gould.  The  Chicago  fire  of  1871 
and  the  Boston  fire  of  1872  brought  heavy  losses  to  holders  of 
securities,  and  the  panic  of  1873  was  far  more  serious  still. 
"All  these  things  were  an  education,"  said  Major  Higginson, 
"but  at  the  same  time  very  painful  to  the  firm." 

Those  five  years  brought  many  changes  to  the  Higginson 
family.  Chauncy  Street  had  been  given  up  to  "trade,"  and 
Mr.  George  Higginson  had  removed  to  Beacon  Street.  For- 
tune was  smiling  upon  him  at  last,  and  he  was  able  at  seventy 
to  retire  from  the  firm  with  a  competency.  His  daughter  was 
married,1  and  was  living  in  Philadelphia.  His  son  James  was 
also  married,2  and  had  formed  a  broker's  partnership  in  New 
York  with  Edward  C.  Chase,  an  army  comrade  who  had  shared 
his  blanket  in  Libby  Prison.  This  firm  of  Chase  and  Higginson 
prospered,  and  made  a  convenient  New  York  connection  for 
Lee,  Higginson  and  Co.  of  Boston. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Higginson,  after  their  return  from 
Georgia,  lived  in  a  little  apartment  house  at  the  corner  of  La 

1  To  S.  Parkman  Blake. 

2  To  Miss  Margaret  Gracie,  of  New  York. 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  275 

Grange  Street  and  Tremont  Street,  called  the  "La  Grange 
House."  Mr.  Francis  Boott  and  his  daughter  and  Mr.  Sebas- 
tian Schlesinger  also  had  apartments  here,  and  there  were 
many  delightful  musical  evenings  in  Mr.  Schlesinger's  rooms. 
Then  the  Higginsons  moved  to  the  Hotel  Hamilton  on  Claren- 
don Street,  where  their  daughter  Cecile  —  named  after  Mrs. 
Higginson's  mother,  Cecile  Braun  —  was  born,  in  January, 
1870.  There  they  remained  until  February,  1874,  when  they 
removed  into  191  Commonwealth  Avenue.  They  spent  the 
summers  from  1870  to  1875  in  a  rented  cottage  at  Beverly 
Farms,  and  began  to  build  their  own  summer  homeinManches- 
ter-by-the-Sea  in  1878.  Ten  years  later  they  acquired  another 
summer  home,  "Rock  Harbor"  at  Westport  on  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  and  were  habitually  there  in  the  early  autumn.  But  it 
was  ten  years  after  their  marriage  before  they  ceased  to  be 
"tent-dwellers." 

Henry  Higginson  could  afford  to  take  few  holidays.  His 
hurried  business  trips  to  New  York  are  recorded  in  brief  letters 
to  his  wife.  "We  're  pretty  busy  to-day.  I  've  turned  a  penny 
for  you,  and  hope  one  of  these  days  to  see  you  driving  your 
own  wagon."  Or  it  might  be:  "A  bad  day  in  stocks.  But 
Chase  and  Higginson  and  we  are  all  right." 

In  the  summer  of  1870  he  made  the  first  of  many  journeys 
to  the  West,  to  investigate  railroad  properties.  At  Niagara 
he  saw  the  first  train  of  Pullman  cars,  just  then  "perfected." 
At  Burlington,  Iowa,  the  home  of  his  friend  C.  E.  Perkins, 
who  had  married  a  niece  of  John  M.  Forbes,  he  writes  a  typ- 
ically Higginsonian  preachment  against  the  American  eager- 
ness for  wealth:  "  Money,  money,  success  in  material  pursuits! 
It  is  injuring  our  generation,  but  perhaps  the  next  may  be 
the  better  for  it.  More  good  and  educated  men  and  women 
may  strive  for  the  welfare  and  civilization  of  America." 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  in  his  yearly  lecture- trips  through 
this  same  West,  had  recorded  many  similar  passages  in  his 
"Journal." 


276  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

In  1 87 1  Higginson  crossed  the  Mississippi  and  the  Missouri 
again,  in  company  with  his  friends  C.  F.  Adams  and  C.  F. 
Morse,  and  saw  the  Indian  Territory.  "The  prairie  stretched 
out  for  miles  and  miles,"  he  writes  to  his  wife,  "and  far  away 
on  the  horizon  was  an  enormous  cattle  herd  just  coming  from 
Texas.  A  few  Indian  women  rode  away,  with  their  colts  and 
dogs  galloping  after  them.  It  was  the  only  large,  free  view 
that  I  had  had,  so  it  seemed  then,  although  everything  is  so 
wide  and  open  here.  And  I  wished  that  you  and  I  had  our 
horses  here  to  gallop  away  over  the  soft  springy  sod,  until  we 
were  tired."  On  his  way  home  he  studied  some  new  Michigan 
railroad  projects  and  visited  Quincy  Shaw  at  Calumet.  In 
October,  he  had  some  tonic  days  with  John  M.  Forbes  on  the 
island  of  Naushon,  riding  and  shooting.  But  on  all  these  ex- 
cursions "business"  sat  behind  the  saddle. 

In  1872  [the  Reminiscences  relate],  came  the  great  Boston 
fire,  which  was  a  terrible  disaster  to  us.  Professor  and  Mrs.  Agas- 
siz  were  staying  with  us  that  night  [Saturday,  November  9] 
at  the  Hotel  Hamilton,  where  we  were  then  living.  During 
dinner,  seeing  the  great  light,  I  went  down- town  at  about  eight 
o'clock.  I  soon  found  what  trouble  everybody  was  in,  tried  to 
do  what  I  could,  and  did  not  return  home  until  four  o'clock 
Sunday  afternoon.  I  had  had  nothing  to  eat  or  drink  in  all  that 
time,  but  was  in  duty  bound  to  look  after  the  Union  Safety 
Deposit  Vaults.  People  were  trying  to  get  in  and  carry  their 
securities  away,  because  they  thought  the  vaults  would  be 
burned.  Mr.  Henry  Lee  was  in  Europe,  as  was  my  brother 
Frank;  Mr.  Whittier,  who  had  joined  the  firm  a  year  or  two 
before,  was  in  the  West,  and  Mr.  George  C.  Lee,  who  had  charge 
of  the  vaults,  was  terribly  worried  by  the  demands  to  open  the 
vaults.  Therefore,  he  went  to  the  South  End  and  kept  out  of 
sight.  (This  by  agreement,  and  I  never  knew  where  he  went.) 
Therefore,  I  was  left  alone.  A  crowd  of  men  kept  trying  to  have 
the  vaults  opened,  and  I  was  continually  fending  them  off. 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  277 

My  father  came  down  and  carried  away  our  books  to  his  house. 
During  the  night  I  went  to  all  sorts  of  places,  and,  among 
others,  to  City  Hall,  to  beg  the  Mayor  to  order  the  blowing  up 
of  certain  buildings  in  order  to  make  a  gap.  By  and  by  there 
were  a  few  explosions  tried  under  the  care  of  General  Benham 
of  the  United  States  Army,  but  nothing  decent  was  accom- 
plished. In  order  to  get  the  powder,  he  had  telegraphed  to  the 
forts,  and  a  number  of  kegs  of  powder  were  sent  to  the  end  of 
Long  Wharf,  but  there  was  nobody  to  fetch  it  up.  So  I  found 
a  covered  wagon  open  at  the  sides,  got  it  to  the  end  of  Long 
Wharf,  and  loaded  some  thirty  kegs  of  powder  on  it  and  drove 
up  State  Street,  which  was  full  of  engines  pumping,  and  sparks 
were  flying  in  every  direction. 

The  fire  was  checked  at  last,  chiefly  because  there  was  not 
much  more  to  burn.  It  had  begun  in  the  dry-goods  district. 
During  the  previous  week  there  had  been  a  bad  attack  of 
"horse-ail"  [the  "epizootic"],  and  during  the  week  a  great 
many  horses  had  been  incapacitated.  The  City  Government 
had  been  asked  to  get  fresh  horses  every  day,  in  order  that  the 
engines  could  be  got  out  promptly  in  case  of  fire.  I  remember 
during  that  week  seeing  an  ox-team  coming  down  State  Street, 
for  there  had  not  been  a  horse  about  for  several  days.  When 
the  fire  broke  out,  the  engines  were  slow  in  reaching  the  fire 
because  of  this  disease  among  the  horses.  However,  when  they 
got  there,  they  did  their  work  as  well  as  they  could.  When 
the  great  stores  of  goods  had  been  burned  and  the  fire  reached 
nearly  to  State  Street,  it  struck  a  great  liquor  house  in  Ex- 
change Place,  and  there  the  owner  said :  "  It  is  a  pity  that  all 
this  good  wine  and  liquor  should  be  lost;  come  in  and  take  a 
drink,  anybody  who  wants  to."  In  consequence  of  this,  many 
of  the  firemen  were  drunk.  However,  the  fire  was  well  fought 
in  all  directions,  especially  by  C.  F.  Hovey  and  Company, 
where  one  of  the  principal  partners  was  most  energetic,  and 
saved  that  shop  and  that  block  of  buildings. 

Seven  or  eight  nights  after  the  fire  was  out  I  passed  in  the 


278  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

office  with  one  or  two  of  the  clerks.  The  police  were  very 
busy,  and  the  town  seemed  to  be  disorganized  for  the  time. 
By  degrees  they  recovered  from  their  calamity,  and  things 
moved  on. 

Major  Higginson's  testimony  before  the  Commissioners 
appointed  to  investigate  the  cause  of  the  fire  and  the  efforts 
made  for  its  suppression  deals  in  detail  with  the  question  of 
using  powder.1  He  had  procured  the  powder,  it  seems,  under 
the  direction  of  General  Benham  of  the  United  States  Army; 
but  there  were  violent  differences  of  opinion  between  General 
Benham,  the  Mayor,  the  Chief  Engineer,  and  the  firemen,  as 
to  whether  buildings  should  be  blown  up  before  the  fire  ac- 
tually reached  them. 

The  bringing  of  that  powder  up  State  Street  [testified 
Major  Higginson]  struck  me  as  a  horrible  thing  to  do,  but 
there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done.  I  was  told  to  do  it,  and  I 
did  it.  We  drove  by  a  couple  of  engines,  and  stopped  about 
twenty  feet  from  them,  and  took  this  powder  out.  ...  I 
bothered  the  Mayor  almost  to  death,  I  suppose,  that  night. 
The  last  time  I  was  there,  it  was  about  sunrise.  I  begged  him 
to  cut  this  path  by  blowing  from  Washington  Street  to  the 
Post  Office,  and  then  down  to  the  water. 

Question  (by  Mr.  Firth).  Looking  back  upon  it,  what  do 
you  think  now  of  the  use  of  powder,  as  it  was  used  that  night  ? 

Answer  (by  H.  L.  H.).  I  should  think  it  helped  the  firemen 
to  get  at  the  fire  and  to  extinguish  it;  but  it  seemed  to  me  that 
it  was  as  badly  used  as  it  could  be.  I  may  be  quite  wrong,  but 
I  can't  see  any  point  in  letting  a  building  catch  fire,  and  then 
blowing  it  down.  I  had  supposed,  and  do  now,  that  the  point 
of  the  whole  thing  was  to  throw  the  buildings  down  and  make 
a  path  before  the  fire  got  there,  and  keep  it  back. 

1  Report  of  the  Commissioners  on  the  Great  Fire  in  Boston  (Boston,  1873),  pp. 
598-605. 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  279 

Q.  Did  you  suggest  that  to  General  Benham,  or  anybody 
you  saw? 

A.  I  told  the  Mayor.  I  did  n't  tell  General  Benham,  be- 
cause he  don't  keep  very  quiet  when  there  is  any  excitement. 
I  knew  him  at  the  South.  He  gets  a  little  worried.  He  ran 
around  there,  and  seemed  to  have  a  worse  time  than  anybody 
that  morning. 

That  story  of  the  frenzied  owners  of  securities  trying  in 
vain  to  enter  the  Safe  Deposit  Vaults  to  rescue  their  own  prop- 
erty, and  prevented  by  those  stubborn  Higginsons,  became  one 
of  the  legends  of  State  Street  and  an  asset  to  the  growing 
reputation  of  the  firm.  Colonel  T.  W.  Higginson  suggested 
that  George  Higginson's  portrait  ought  to  be  painted,  stand- 
ing in  the  lurid  light  of  the  conflagration,  with  his  back  to  the 
Safety  Vaults,  defying  the  "anxious  mob  of  respectable  capi- 
talists"!  But  the  colonel  was  incurably  literary. 

In  the  spring  of  1873,  after  more  than  four  years  of  labori- 
ous service  to  his  firm,  Henry  Higginson  took  a  real  holiday. 
The  Massachusetts  Legislature  appointed  a  Commission  to 
visit  the  Vienna  Exposition  and  report  thereon.  C.  F.  Adams 
was  Chairman,  and  sailed  in  April,  with  his  old  regimental 
companions  Greely  Curtis  and  Higginson,  the  latter  being  one 
of  the  Honorary  Commissioners.  F.  D.  Millet,  the  Secretary 
of  the  Commission,  was  already  in  Europe.  A  more  joyous 
quartette  for  a  junket  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  find. 
The  three  colonels  (although  Higginson  never  used  his  brevet 
title)  advanced  promptly  upon  Paris.  Adams  went  on  to 
Vienna,  while  Curtis  and  Higginson  visited  Venice.  But  they 
were  back  in  Paris  for  the  month  of  June,  shopping  vigorously 
for  their  absent  wives,  and  cultivating  the  theatre.  "I  live 
quite  by  myself,"  the  Major  wrote  home,  "go  to  the  theatre  a 
great  deal,  read  and  write  (a  little)  French  and  take  two 
lessons  a  day  in  the  hope  of  reviving  my  faded  knowledge.  I 
shun  all  the  Americans  and  do  not  leave  my  address  any- 


280  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

where.  ...  I  Ve  been  to  the  Francais  a  great  deal."  He  de- 
scribes with  much  detail  the  acting  of  Got,  Mme.  Favart, 
Miles.  Reichemberg  and  Peirson,  and  a  new  actress,  Sarah 
Bernhardt  —  "fascinating,  wonderful.  ...  I  took  a  glass  to 
watch  her.  .  .  .  Very  little  beauty,  thin  as  a  rail,  handsome 
eyes  and  nice  hair  —  if  her  own  —  head  well  placed." 

Henry  Adams  and  his  wife  ("Clover"  Hooper)  were  in 
Paris,  and  Mrs.  Adams  helped  Higginson  in  buying  furniture 
for  the  Commonwealth  Avenue  house,  then  building,  and  in 
dress-making  commissions  from  the  Major's  wife,  who  was 
an  old  friend  of  Mrs.  Adams.  Higginson  went  to  London  for 
a  few  days  with  the  Adamses,  and  dined  with  J.  R.  Lowell, 
"very  bright  and  charming.  He  had  just  been  to  Oxford  to 
receive  his  degree."  He  sold  a  good  many  American  securities, 
incidentally,  in  London,  and  saw  much  of  Sir  Thomas  Brassey, 
William  Malcolm,  and  other  British  investors  and  bankers. 
"  I  believe  I  could  build  up  a  capital  business  between  here  and 
America  —  simply  investing  money  for  safe  people." 

Early  in  July  he  was  at  Lausanne,  making  the  acquaintance 
of  his  Agassiz  relatives  —  fifty  of  them  at  one  wedding  party, 
all  talking  delightfully  in  French  and  German  at  him  at  once. 
"Then  I  got  back  to  Berne,  where  I  talked  with  Harry 
James  until  one  o'clock  in  the  night."  Finally  he  reached 
Vienna,  after  thirteen  years  absence. 

I  am  delighted  [he  writes]  with  several  things  here.  In  the 
first  and  least  place  I  'm  very  glad  to  find  that  I  can  talk  Ger- 
man with  entire  volubility,  pretty  well  (two  people  said  "bet- 
ter than  when  I  went  away"  —  ridiculous!),  and  with  toler- 
able correctness.  I  need  words  for  new  subjects  sometimes, 
and  have  n't  such  a  choice  as  I  once  had.  Then,  of  course,  I  'm 
pleased  very  much  to  be  so  kindly  and  affectionately  received 
by  all  and  to  find  that  I  Ve  not  been  forgotten  during  this 
eighth  of  a  century  —  egotistical,  isn't  it?  but  very  pleasant 
for  one  who  prizes  friends.  Then  too  I  'm  greatly  pleased  to  see 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  281 

how  sundry  men,  whom  I  knew,  have  grown  larger  and  better. 
One  of  them  is  director  of  the  opera,  another  is  sub-director, 
another  leader  of  the  orchestra,  etc.,  and  the  chief  of  the  Con- 
servatorium,  which  is  greatly  improved.  Epstein  is  the  piano- 
professor  at  the  Conservatorium,  and  the  pianist  of  Vienna.  I 
wish  he  could  come  for  a  trip  to  America. 

He  now  visited  the  Exposition  "industriously,"  yet  not, 
it  appears,  too  industriously.  "The  white  wines  suit  me  ad- 
mirably, and  the  weather  is  charming.  ...  I  heard  Strauss's 
people  play  in  the  Volks-garten.  Though  Johann  Strauss 
did  n't  lead,  but  a  brother,  yet  we  had  the  old  swing  and 
spring." 

Ten  days  later  he  is  back  in  London,  studying  the  annual 
Royal  Exhibition  of  paintings.  "  I  do  think  the  whole  lot  in- 
ferior to  the  French  show,  though  James  Lowell,  who  ought  to 
know,  and  Henry  Adams,  who  does  know  .  .  .  thought  them 
better."  His  comments  on  France  and  Prussia,  in  this  letter 
to  his  wife,  contain  a  prophecy:  — 

The  French  are  trying  to  learn  something.  .  .  .  They've 
taken  their  whipping,  borne  their  trials  well,  paid  their  money 
punctually,  got  rid  of  the  accursed  German  (you'd  swear 
yourself  to  see  those  Prussian  helmets  in  the  French  towns), 
and  except  that  they're  training  for  another  war,  they're  all 
right.  ...  I  wouldn't  in  any  case  be  a  Prussian.  "Pride 
goes  before  a  fall."  It  '11  be  some  time,  but  Prussia  will  get  hit 
hard  some  day. 

And  then,  in  mid-August  from  Paris,  just  before  sailing,  he 
writes  this  to  his  father,  in  strange  contrast  to  his  light  talk 
about  white  wines  and  Strauss  waltzes  and  actresses  and  pic- 
ture-shows :  — 

My  real  regret  down- town,  beyond  my  own  ability  to  regu- 
late my  life  well  and  to  do  much  without  so  much  worry  to 


282  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

me,  is,  that  I  don't  gain  wisdom  much.  To  lose  money  is  no 
such  serious  matter,  but  to  see  clearly  that  one  will  lose  and 
to  act  accordingly  in  due  season  to  avoid  it  —  that  is  worth 
working  for;  and  when  shall  I  get  it?  Another  thing  came  to 
me  clearly  one  day  in  London:  "  We  can't  serve  God  and  Mam- 
mon," which  always  had  a  distinct  enough  meaning  for  me, 
but  —  if  one  wishes  a  thing  very  much  indeed  and  works  and 
struggles  for  it,  one  is  likely  to  lose  balance  a  little  and  may 
sacrifice  better  things.  You  have  preserved  your  honesty  en- 
tirely thro'  a  long  and  hard  life,  and  it  is  a  wonder.  Well,  per- 
haps one  reason  has  been  that  you ' ve  cared  more  to  keep  your 
balance  and  your  honesty  than  to  get  money,  and  the  same  is 
true  of  Uncle  Harry,  and  the  same  is  true  of  the  Barings  — 

and  the  same  is  not  true  of  X ,  I  fear,  tho'  no  one  can  say 

that  he  has  sinned. 

To-day  [August  16;  his  mother's  birthday]  is  to  be  remem- 
bered always  —  and  has  been  here.  Sixty-two  years  old  — 
and  24  years  since  she  died.  It  is  a  great  while,  and  has  been 
a  great  deal  longer  for  you  than  for  us,  and  I  am  older  than 
mother  was.  You  have  had  a  hard  life  —  certainly  not  with- 
out its  joys  too,  but  still  a  hard  and  dry  life,  which  is  all  the 
more  reason  for  my  being  at  home  soon.  How  well  I  remember 
the  last  summer  of  mother's  life !  It  is  as  distinct  as  possible 
to  me,  as  clear  as  if  it  had  just  passed,  and  how  she  sent  some 
sweet  peas  to  Lydia  Storrow  for  the  coffin  of  a  baby  that  died 
in  the  summer. 

He  was  back  in  State  Street  in  September,  just  in  time  to 
face  the  panic  of  1873.  He  had  noted  the  business  depression 
all  over  Europe,  and  particularly  in  Vienna,  but  had  felt  no 
immediate  anxiety.  Yet  the  United  States  had  been  over- 
trading. The  paramount  cause  of  the  panic,  in  the  opinion  of 
James  Ford  Rhodes,1  was  excessive  railroad  construction, 
ever  since  the  completion  of  the  Union  Pacific  in  1869.   It  had 

1  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  7,  pp.  37~53- 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  283 

absorbed  a  large  part  of  the  circulating  capital  of  the  country 
and  all  the  money  that  could  be  borrowed  abroad.  And  now 
the  money  market  grew  tight.  The  failure  of  Jay  Cooke  and 
Co.,  who  had  financed  the  Northern  Pacific,  came  on  Septem- 
ber 18.  The  next  day  Fisk  and  Hatch,  backers  of  the  Chesa- 
peake and  Ohio,  went  down.  Wall  Street  was  in  terror,  and 
the  New  York  Stock  Exchange  was  closed  for  eight  days. 
Wholesale  failures  followed,  and  there  was  no  genuine  revival 
of  business  until  1878. 

"These  five  years  [1873-1878],"  says  Mr.  Rhodes,  "are  a 
long  dismal  tale  of  declining  markets,  exhaustion  of  capital,  a 
lowering  in  value  of  all  kinds  of  property,  including  real  estate, 
constant  bankruptcies,  close  economy  in  business  and  grinding 
frugality  in  living,  idle  mills,  furnaces  and  factories,  former 
profit-earning  iron  mills  reduced  to  the  value  of  a  scrap-heap, 
laborers  out  of  employment,  reductions  of  wages,  strikes  and 
lockouts,  the  great  railroad  riots  of  1877,  suffering  of  the  unem- 
ployed, depression  and  despair." 

It  was  an  anxious  five  years  for  Lee,  Higginson  and  Co.,  but 
the  anchor  held.  The  firm  had  solid  resources,  and  the  money 
Henry  Higginson  had  raised  in  London  in  1873  came  just  in 
time.  John  M.  Forbes's  handling  of  the  finances  of  the  C.  B. 
and  Q.  and  the  Burlington  and  Missouri  —  roads  in  which  the 
firm  was  interested  —  was  masterly.1  Calumet  and  Hecla 
never  passed  a  dividend.  The  old  Boston  merchants  had  con- 
fidence in  the  Lees  and  Higginsons,  and  stood  by  them.  An 
illustration  may  be  found  in  a  long  letter  dictated  by  Henry 
Higginson  on  the  day  of  his  death,  November  14,  1919*  to 
Professor  Barrett  Wendell :  — 

In  the  panic  of  1873,  some  notes  of  two  young  men  who  were 
wards  of  Mr.  Frank  Lowell  came  to  us,  or  rather  Mr.  Lowell 
brought  them  to  us  to  sell,  he  endorsing  them.  Mr.  Lowell  was 

1  See  A n  American  Railroad  Builder  —  John  Murray  Forbes,  by  H.  G.  Pearson, 
Boston,  191 1. 


284  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

of  the  highest  kind  of  type,  and  had  a  fair  amount  of  money. 
He  took  the  notes  to  Edward  Austin,  in  whose  office  I  had 
worked  for  eighteen  months  after  leaving  college.  He  looked 
and  sniffed  and  said,  "  Huh,  Frank  Lowell  —  a  single  name  — 
after  all,  those  young  men  do  not  count;  wonder  what  would 
happen  if  Frank  Lowell  died."  Said  I,  "John  Gardner  would 
pay  the  notes,  sir."  Said  he,  "Go  and  ask  him";  so  I  walked 
down  to  Mr.  Gardner  and  told  him  the  story.  Mr.  Gardner 
said  at  once:  "Tell  Edward  Austin  I  will  pay  every  note  that 
Frank  Lowell  ever  made,"  and  the  sale  went  through.  I  tell 
you,  the  Gardners  are  high-minded  gentlemen  all  the  way 
through  —  scrupulous,  careful,  bold,  not  afraid  of  the  devil. 

But  the  strain  of  the  panic  told  on  George  Higginson,  and  at 
the  end  of  April,  1874,  his  sons  persuaded  him  to  give  up  his 
active  membership  in  the  firm.  He  was  seventy  and  had  been 
in  business  from  the  age  of  twelve.  He  lived  fifteen  years 
longer,  and  could  not  keep  entirely  away  from  State  Street; 
but  the  days  of  his  real  warfare  were  now  accomplished. 

A  new  partner,  Charles  A.  Whittier,  had  been  admitted  to 
the  firm  on  January  1,  1873  —  a  dashing  figure,  who  was,  until 
he  suddenly  left  the  firm  in  1888,  an  idol  of  the  market-place. 
His  earlier  activities  were  highly  useful  to  Lee,  Higginson  and 
Co.  Henry  Higginson,  in  his  Reminiscences,  thus  pictures  the 
"good  years"  which  succeeded  the  panic:  — 

Business  went  on,  up  and  down;  we  took  hold  of  certain 
lines  of  railroad  bonds,  bought  and  sold  them,  and  increased 
our  business  in  that  way.  By  and  by  we  resumed  specie  pay- 
ments, and  then  came  a  period  of  speculation.  As  Frank  Hig- 
ginson and  Whittier  were  very  bright,  a  large  business  was  de- 
veloped, and  while  I  was  abroad  again  in  1878,  they  got  a  large 
order  in  Atchison  shares  and  made  a  great  deal  of  money  for 
our  customers  and  for  the  firm ;  in  fact,  we  were  the  principal 
men  in  the  Stock  Exchange  at  that  time.  The  Burlington  and 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  285 

Missouri  Railroad  in  Nebraska  was  also  being  developed  at 
that  time,  as  settlers  in  Nebraska  were  buying  lands,  and  the 
bonds  were  being  paid  off ;  and  there  again  we  had  great  suc- 
cess for  our  customers  and  for  ourselves.  Whittier  was  very 
clever  indeed  in  the  Stock  Exchange,  was  "king  pin."  .  .  . 
Frank  was  very  keen  and  able,  managed  the  financial  side,  and 
kept  things  in  excellent  order.  We  had  several  very  remunera- 
tive years,  and  made  a  good  deal  of  money. 

In  the  summer  of  1878  Mr.  Higginson  was  in  London,  Paris, 
and  Berlin  again,  seeing  many  friends  and  visiting  picture 
exhibitions  and  the  opera.  He  heard  Patti  for  the  first  time: 
"She  combines  more  than  anyone  known  to  me.  In  Vienna 
they  told  me  that  she  was  the  first  artist  of  the  day,  and  they  're 
right.  She  sings,  intonates,  vocalizes,  enunciates,  plays,  looks 
charmingly,  and  her  voice  goes  right  into  one's  heart."  He 
had  one  very  happy  Sunday  at  Preston  Hall,  Aylesford,  with 
the  Brasseys:  — 

Passing  the  Sunday  in  a  lovely  place,  quietly  and  idly.  A 
great  stretch  of  smooth  green  meadow,  dotted  with  great  oaks, 
elms  and  chestnuts,  deer  feeding  or  lying  in  the  shade  (hundred 
or  two  deer) ;  beyond,  a  greater  stretch  of  meadow  yellow  with 
buttercups  in  which  beautiful  great  cows  are  feeding;  just  be- 
yond, the  Med  way  flowing  unseen  and  unmarked  except  by  a 
boat  with  a  huge  red  sail  just  passing  before  my  eyes  —  and  on 
the  other  bank  a  charming  old  Carmelite  monastery,  tower  and 
church  and  a  brown  village.  Beyond  lie  rising  meadows 
fringed  with  trees,  and  then  high  hills,  half -bare,  half-wooded. 
The  house  is  a  huge  building  of  gray  stone  built  thirty  years 
ago,  stretching  along  a  great  terrace  with  a  few  little  beds  in 
the  garden  and  a  fountain  —  below  it  a  balustrade  of  stone. 
The  great  house  has  a  high  great  hall  on  entering,  a  high  din- 
ing-room hung  with  old  armor  and  weapons,  with  some  good 
carving  in  it,  and  a  high  billiard-room,  where  the  men  sit  and 
smoke  and  chat.   About  twelve  guests  are  now  here. 


286  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

This  was  the  first  of  many  visits  in  English  country  houses. 

Those  "good  years"  that  brought  him  such  friendships  and 
rapidly  increasing  business  success  brought  also  joy  and  grief 
into  his  private  life.  His  father-in-law,  Professor  Louis  Agassiz, 
had  died  on  December  14,  1873,  and  only  eight  days  later  the 
wife  of  Alexander  Agassiz  died  also.  Henry  Higginson's 
daughter  Cecile,  whom  he  idolized  with  the  passion  of  an  in- 
tensely emotional  nature,  died  in  1875.  Those  who  knew  him 
intimately  were  aware  that  he  carried  the  secret  sorrow  with 
him  till  his  death.  In  1876,  his  son  Alexander  was  born,  and 
the  yearning  solicitude  of  the  father  followed  every  waking 
and  sleeping  instant  of  the  boy's  life.  But  such  things  as  these 
elude  biography.  "There  are  moments  in  life,"  said  Turgenev, 
"there  are  feelings  ...  we  can  only  indicate  them  —  and 
pass  by." 

When  Henry  Higginson  was  a  very  old  man,  his  mind  dwelt 
often  upon  the  first  decades  of  his  experience  in  State  Street. 
He  realized  then  the  years  of  peculiar  strain,  the  critical  pe- 
riods in  the  firm's  existence.  He  loved  to  talk  of  Colonel  Harry 
Lee,  who  "was  our  one  large  capitalist  in  dangerous  times. 
In  those  times  he  was  always  cheerful  and  full  of  courage. 
When  the  seas  were  smooth,  he  was  not  in  such  good  spirits." 

He  wrote  in  191 5:  "From  1868  until  1898  there  were  these 
constant  frights  and  uncertainties,  which  gave  gamblers  a 
great  chance  if  they  could  guess  right,  and  which  kept  decent 
men  in  doubt  and  often  in  agony.  They  could  not  do  business 
in  a  proper  way,  and  I  look  back  on  all  those  years  with  horror." 
He  dwelt  often  upon  "the  desperate  years  from  1891  to  1898," 
and  going  back  still  further,  upon  "the  Villard  troubles"  and 
the  "Union  Pacific  troubles."  "There  was  a  great  deal  of  soda- 
water  in  business  at  that  time,  grave  doubts,  great  extrava- 
gance and  certainly  great  waste.  It  was  an  education,  but  a 
very  painful  one."  He  talked  much,  also,  of  the  "silver  craze," 
the  failure  of  Baring  Brothers,  and  the  panic  of  1893,  when 
"things  broke  loose  and  were  horrible"  —  "as  bad  a  time  as  I 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  287 

have  ever  seen";  and  the  panic  of  1907  —  when  "we  lived 
through  it  after  a  good  deal  of  suffering." 

But  there  were  ancient  triumphs,  as  well  as  agonies,  upon 
which  he  often  spoke  freely:  how  "Jim  Storrow  [the  elder] 
battled  the  watch  for  the  Telephone  Company,  beat  the  West- 
ern Union  —  which  was  very  strong  —  and  established  the 
patents  for  the  Bell  Telephone  Company;  and  he  was  helped 
by  Bill  Forbes,  who  thought  very  little  of  himself,  but  was 
stiff  and  brave;  and  Vail  was  a  remarkable  man;  and  it  was 
those  three  men  who  made  the  Telephone  Company  with  the 
aid  of  many  others  " ; l  how  his  friend  Charles  Coffin,  that "  won- 
derful trader,"  had  succeeded  in  the  difficult  negotiations  that 
led  to  the  formation  of  the  General  Electric  Company ;  how  his 
friend  C.  E.  Perkins,  of  the  C.  B.  and  Q.,  had,  single-handed, 
saved  the  banks  of  Nebraska  from  disaster. 

He  had  fascinating  stories,  too,  of  dreams  that  had  come  to 
nothing:  of  fabulous  silver  mines;  of  coal  and  iron  properties, 
the  only  flaw  in  the  perfection  of  which  was  the  lack  of  coal  and 
iron;  of  rainbow-hued  bubbles  like  Duck  Creek  and  the  Cot- 
tonham  plantation.  He  had  a  soft  spot  in  his  heart  for  "pro- 
moters," visionaries,  gamblers,  and  was  never  more  delightful 
than  in  recounting  some  successful  swindle  upon  himself.  And 
in  truth,  to  the  very  end,  he  was  quite  willing,  in  spite  of  many 
a  "burnt  finger,"  to  take  any  legitimate  chance  once  more. 
When  he  was  over  eighty  he  wrote  to  his  old  friend  General 
C.  J.  Paine,  —  who  was  too  much  interested  in  golf,  the  Major 
thought,  to  give  proper  attention  to  the  market,  —  urging  him 
to  take  a  venture  in  some  Sugar  bonds.  "You  ought  really  to 
attend  more  carefully  to  business  and  not  sit  and  reflect  on 
your  past  glory."  The  Major's  stenographer  must  have  caught 
the  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

But  it  is  not  the  purpose  of  the  present  chapter  to  trace  the 
detailed  history  of  Lee,  Higginson  and  Company  beyond  1881. 
With  the  founding  of  the  Symphony  Orchestra,  in  that  year, 

1  Letter  to  Professor  Barrett  Wendell,  Nov.  14,  19 19. 


288  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

Major  Higginson  began  his  role  as  public  benefactor;  and 
though  everyone  knew  he  was  a  banker  and  broker,  men  began 
to  think  of  him  primarily  as  a  patron  of  the  arts,  as  a  philan- 
thropist. Yet  it  was  his  partnership  in  Lee,  Higginson  and  Co. 
that  made  his  philanthropies  possible.  It  widened  immensely 
the  scope  of  his  mental  activities  and  his  personal  friendships. 
It  affected  his  judgment  of  men,  his  views  of  political  and 
economic  questions.  It  exercised  a  steadily  moulding  pressure 
upon  his  character.  It  will  be  impossible,  therefore,  to  tell  the 
story  of  his  later  life  without  frequent  allusion  to  the  firm  of 
which  he  was  so  long  an  important  member.  It  must  suffice 
here  to  indicate  in  the  briefest  fashion  the  later  changes  in  the 
personnel  of  the  firm  and  the  extension  of  its  activities. 

In  1880  Mr.  Charles  Fairchild  had  been  admitted  as  a  part- 
ner, and  remained  until  1894.  Mr.  F.  L.  Higginson,  after  in- 
valuable sendees,  retired  from  partnership  in  1885.  In  that 
year  Mr.  James  Jackson  joined  the  firm.  He  died  in  1900. 
Gardiner  M.  Lane  was  admitted  to  partnership  in  1892,  and 
Mr.  George  L.  Peabody  and  Mr.  Harry  K.  White  in  1898.  In 
that  year  Colonel  Henry  Lee  died,  leaving  George  C.  Lee,  who 
had  joined  the  firm  in  1853,  as  the  senior  partner.  His  son, 
George  C.  Lee,  Jr.,  and  Mr.  James  J.  Storrow,  were  admitted 
to  partnership  in  1900. 

"At  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  then,"  says  Pro- 
fessor Wendell  in  his  sketch  of  Lee,  Higginson  and  Co.,  "the 
firm  seemed  strong  in  men.  Mr.  George  Lee  was  still  vigor- 
ous, Mr.  Henry  Higginson  was  at  his  best.  Mr.  James  Jackson 
still  seemed  almost  young,  and  Mr.  Lane  and  Mr.  Peabody 
were  actually  so.  Fifteen  years  later  ...  all  of  them  but  Mr. 
Higginson  were  dead,  and  Mr.  White  had  long  left  the  business. 
Such  losses  must  in  any  event  have  meant  a  certain  break  in 
the  continuity  of  personal  tradition.  This  happened  to  coin- 
cide with  a  general  alteration  in  the  character  of  the  business. 
The  general  character  of  American  business,  indeed,  altered 
almost  everywhere.  The  period  of  promotion  was,  on  the  whole, 


LEE,  HIGGINSON  AND  COMPANY  289 

past.  The  problem  was  no  longer,  as  a  rule,  to  interest  large 
investors  in  enterprises  which  would  involve  considerable  risks 
and  if  successful  should  result  in  great  profits.  It  was  rather, 
and  increasingly,  to  find  a  great  number  of  comparatively 
small  investors  and  to  place  before  them  unquestionably  sound 
securities.  .  .  .  The  period  in  the  history  of  the  firm  since 
1900  is  on  the  whole  as  distinct  from  that  between  1868  and 
1900  as  that  period  was  from  those  which  came  earlier." 

Major  Higginson  adapted  himself,  with  more  flexibility  of 
mind  than  is  usual  with  men  past  seventy,  to  these  inevitable 
changes  in  method  and  in  personnel.  He  was  very  proud  and 
fond  of  the  dozen  or  more  younger  partners  who  had  been  ad- 
mitted to  the  firm  since  1906;  proud  of  the  establishment  of  the 
Chicago  and  New  York  offices  of  Lee,  Higginson  and  Co.,  and 
of  the  record  of  the  firm  of  Higginson  and  Co.  in  London.  Dur- 
ing the  World  War  he  was  constantly  writing  and  talking  about 
the  efficiency  of  these  younger  partners  in  connection  with  the 
Red  Cross,  the  Liberty  Loans,  and  other  services  to  the  commun- 
ity and  the  nation.  He  felt  that  the  old  firm  was  still  meeting 
its  obligations,  financial  and  moral,  that  it  was  contribut- 
ing to  the  welfare  of  the  United  States,  and  helping  to  safe- 
guard the  interests  of  civilization.  In  the  last  summer  of  his 
life,  Major  Higginson  made  one  or  two  brief  talks  to  the  school 
for  bond-salesmen,  organized  by  Lee,  Higginson  and  Co.  for 
the  training  of  their  younger  employees.  Not  often,  surely, 
has  a  senior  partner,  in  his  eighty-fifth  year,  given  more  ripe 
and  laconic  admonitions.  He  was  talking  to  boys,  but  the 
abrupt  sentences  condensed  the  long  years  of  experience  in 
State  Street:  — 

The  house  has  always  tried  to  do  its  work  well  and  to  have 
and  keep  a  high  character,  and  I  think  it  has  succeeded  in 
those  points.  Character  is  the  foundation-stone  of  such  a  busi- 
ness, and  once  lost,  is  not  easily  regained.  .  .  .  Now,  for  your- 
selves: Do  not  lose  a  day;  use  your  time  well,  remembering 


290  HENRY  LEE  HIGGINSON 

that  that  day  never  comes  again ;  know  your  business,  and  tell 
the  story  just  as  it  is;  find  out  the  truth  about  the  bonds  and 
shares;  if  a  bond  is  pretty  good,  say  so;  if  it  is  first-class,  say 
that;  if  it  is  attractive  from  a  speculator's  point  of  view,  say 
that.  Put  the  "cards  on  the  table"  every  time,  and  do  not 
bore  buyers.  If  you  are  roughly  treated,  never  mind.  Good 
men  are  not  infrequently  out  of  temper  or  very  busy,  and  do 
not  care  to  see  you.  Remember  this  about  truth:  you  must 
know  your  subject  in  order  to  speak  truly;  and  although  mak- 
ing a  mistake  is  not  the  same  thing  as  deceiving,  still  you  are 
responsible  for  the  facts,  and,  therefore,  for  the  truth.  Do  not 
waste  your  time.  Keep  your  temper.  Play  the  game  decently, 
and  be  faithful. 

This  does  not  sound  much  like  weeping  on  the  doorstep ! 


END    OF    VOLUME    I 


V 

V.I 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •   Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA      000  253  921    1 


